For whom the bell tolls
by Fionnthedog
Summary: I've always wondered what would've happened to Matthew & Mary (and everyone else) if Cora had died instead of Lavinia. This is one possibility...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Mary

Mary felt uneasy. She had a prickly feeling in her stomach and she couldn't concentrate on what Isobel was talking to her about. Possibly something about refugees? She made a non-specific murmur of encouragement.

She should be uneasy about the flu. She knew from Richard that the real death toll had been kept out of the papers, so as not to lower morale he'd said, and her Mama and Lavinia were sick with it upstairs, as well as Carson and a number of the other servants. But the flu simply added to her unease, it was not the real cause of it; the real cause was Matthew.

She stole another glance at him across the table. He was still studiously avoiding her gaze, looking stony-faced across at his mother who was still holding forth about whatever it was, definitely something about refugees she decided as she tore her glance away from Matthew and back to Isobel. She knew what had happened between them, just hours before, had been wrong, but it had been so unresolved. Matthew had said things, things she'd never thought she'd hear him say to her again, things she'd only dreamt could ever be true. And he'd kissed her. She was sure it was he who'd kissed her and not the other way round, but the memory was already hazy in her mind. Could it have been she who'd initiated it? No, he had told her he wished he could marry her and then he'd kissed her. She knew he had nothing to offer her, he was engaged to Lavinia, but there had to be an end to that conversation. Some sort of goodbye at the very least. Surely he owed her that?

Isobel had finished her monologue on the refugees and looked across at Matthew.

"How's Lavinia?" she asked.

Matthew's face remained stony, not giving anything away.

"Alright, I think," he said. "The illness has made her rather confused."

Mary saw her chance to break the ice with Matthew. He wouldn't be able to ignore her in public, surely.

"What do you mean?" she asked quickly cutting off the chance of anyone else asking a similar question.

Matthew finally looked at her, darkly, but before he could speak the door burst open and Sybil came into the dining room.

"Papa, Mary, Edith! You must come quickly!"

Everyone beside Violet stood up immediately. It was clear from Sybil's tone that something was very wrong and Mary felt immediately ashamed at how preoccupied she'd been with Matthew.

"Is it Mama?" Mary asked, knowing the answer before Sybil had said it.

"Yes. You must all come quickly."

* * *

The room smelled of death. The air was thick and hot and felt heavy and oppressive. Cora was ghostly white and slick with sweat; even to Mary's untrained eye it was clear that she was very ill. There was blood on the sheets which were twisted around her like bandages and O'Brien sat holding her hand, her eyes hollow with tiredness. The trace of a smile crossed Cora's lips as she saw them enter the room and motioned for them to come to her.

Mary felt sick. This couldn't be happening. Downton was her fortress, it was a place of safety not of danger. Terrible things happened outside its walls, but it was meant to protect those sheltered within. She looked at Dr. Clarkson standing meekly at the edge of the room.

"There must be something you can do Dr. Clarkson?" she said, a wild edge creeping into her voice. "Why are you not doing something?"

Dr. Clarkson looked forlorn and ran a hand through his greying hair.

"I'm afraid I've done everything I can Lady Mary. The best thing now is for her to be with those she loves."

He nodded towards her bed where Robert, Edith and Sybil were already gathered. She stood rooted to the spot looking blankly at Dr. Clarkson.

"You must be able to do something. You must..." Her voice trailed off into barely a whisper and she started to cry.

She felt a hand on her lower back and Matthew's voice very quietly in her ear so as not to be heard by anyone but her.

"You must go to her my darling. She needs you."

Matthew's breath felt warm in her ear and she turned momentarily to look at him. He smiled at her and though the smile didn't reach his eyes it still reassured her, and she made her way over to join her father and her sisters at Cora's bedside.

"Mary," Cora said weakly holding out her hand towards her.

"You must be happy" she said in barely more than a whisper. "All of you. You must promise me that you will be happy, that's all I want."

She started coughing and let go of Mary's hand.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Matthew

Cora slipped away quietly with Robert and the girls at her bedside and Matthew standing awkwardly with his mother at the back of room, feeling like an intruder. As Dr. Clarkson confirmed that she was dead, Robert let out a wail that reverberated around the whole house making it feel like Downton itself was grieving for her mistress.

After some time Matthew quietly led Mary, Edith and Sybil downstairs and into the library leaving Robert alone with his wife. He asked Thomas to fetch some brandy which he poured for them in liberal measures.

They drank in silence with no one sure where to look and what to do. Matthew knew how inappropriate it was, especially at such a time, but he wanted more than anything to be able to take Mary in his arms; to comfort her and finish the conversation they had started earlier in the day. He had no idea how it ended, they were both engaged to other people, but he knew there needed to be some sort of ending. It would have to wait though. There were other things he now needed to do, for Robert. And Lavinia was still sick.

"I will make sure that everything is taken care of" he said eventually. "I don't want any of you, Cousin Robert included, worrying about anything practical. I'll speak with the staff this evening, and deal with everything else in the morning."

He headed downstairs to find the staff gathered in the servant's dining room, despite the lateness of the hour. They were waiting for news, and for instruction. As he entered the room fell silent expectantly.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you that Lady Grantham has passed away."

There was a collective gasp of shock, and some of the maids began to weep.

"This is a time of great sadness for all of Downton and I know that you will all want to respect the privacy of Lord Grantham, and Lady Mary, Lady Edith and Lady Sybil as they grieve."

He paused, and then added, "And I hope you will also look after Miss O'Brien. She has been through a lot these last few days and was a great support to Lady Grantham in her final hours."

He motioned for Mrs Hughes and Thomas to join him.

"Mrs Hughes, I think I will need to stay for a few days. I hope that is not a problem."

Mrs Hughes nodded.

"Thomas, can you send someone down to Crawley House for some things for me? And arrange for a car to take my mother and the Dowager Countess home?"

Thomas also nodded.

"I'm ever so sorry for your loss Mr. Crawley" he said as he turned to leave and Matthew felt that he might actually mean it.

* * *

Once Matthew was sure that Mary, Edith and Sybil were safely in bed, his thoughts turned to his fiancée. He hadn't seen her since she had told him she wanted to call off the wedding, but Dr. Clarkson has assured him that she was recovering well and might even be able to get up in a day or so. He was relieved, of course, but everything to do with Lavinia, and Mary for that matter, was in such a tangle in his head.

He listened quietly at the door to Robert and Cora's room. Robert had refused to leave his wife's side, and Matthew hadn't thought it wise to try and make him until the morning. He peered carefully around the door. Robert was asleep with his head on Cora's chest. It was both morbid and beautiful in equal measure, and he closed the door as quietly as he could so as not to disturb them.

He wondered if anyone had told Lavinia about Cora. His mother might have done before she'd gone home, or Dr. Clarkson perhaps? Was he really looking for excuse not to see his fiancée? Had he really become that kind of man? He massaged his temples which were beginning to throb, reminding him of how late it was and how much had happened since he last spoke with Lavinia.

He knocked softly on Lavinia's door so as not to wake her if she was sleeping. It was terribly unorthodox all this visiting of people's bedrooms after dark, but none of that seemed very important at the moment. He heard a quiet 'hello' from inside the room and peered gingerly around the door.

"I'm terribly sorry to visit so late," he said.

Lavinia smiled at him, and sat herself up in bed. She was pale but otherwise seemed to be doing well.

"That's alright," she said, "I heard about Lady Grantham. I'm so sorry for you, and for everyone. It's so sad."

"Yes," he said simply. "Thank you."

He was still standing awkwardly at the door, and Lavinia motioned for him to come in properly.

"I won't bite you know," she teased. "And I hardly think that anyone is going to worry that we've not got a chaperone, not tonight of all nights."

Matthew came into the room more fully and drew a chair up to Lavinia's bedside. Her golden hair fell in waves over her shoulders, and despite her wan complexion she looked beautiful. He felt a sharp stab of guilt. How had he got himself into this situation? This was not who he was.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better," she replied. "Dr. Clarkson thinks I might be able to get up tomorrow and maybe even go home."

"I'm so relieved." Matthew replied. "With Cousin Cora... I, well, it's such a relief that you're recovering."

There was an awkward silence. Matthew fiddled with a tassel on the edge of the blanket. It seemed wrong somehow, on such a night, for them to argue and it was too late for him to get his thoughts straight. He stood up.

"It's late, and you need to keep resting. I'm so glad that you're alright."

His speech seemed too formal, but equally it seemed wrong to call her his darling, especially as he had used that term of endearment to Mary just hours earlier. Everything was so hopelessly mixed up.

"Goodnight Matthew" Lavinia said as he made his way out of her room, and headed for his.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Mary

The first shards of sunlight had begun to creep around the shutters and bathe Mary's room in the soft glow of dawn, but it would still be a good couple of hours until Anna came in to wake her up. Mary had been awake most of the night, waiting for the morning, waiting for her mother's funeral to be over. When she had slept it had been fitful and she'd seen her mother die again and again in her dreams. Tired as she was it was easier to be awake.

She sat up, went over to the window and opened it to let the burgeoning day into the room. The ground outside was frosty and a mist hung low making everything look a little eerie. She suddenly had an urge to be outside and to hear the birds as they realised it was morning and feel the frost crunch under her feet. Mary dressed quickly leaving her hair in its bedtime plait down her back, and slipped quietly out of her room and downstairs.

It was colder than she thought it would be as she got outside and she pulled her coat tighter around her. The cold air chased away her tiredness and she walked aimlessly around the grounds thinking of all the times her mother had scolded when she was a girl for frightening the staff half to death by slipping out of her bedroom early and running down to see the horses before breakfast. She couldn't believe that she would never see her mother again; death was so final, so unyielding. She kept thinking of things she wished she'd said to her before it was too late, things she'd now never be able to say. Whilst she had always had more of a natural affinity with her father she missed her mother dreadfully. It seemed so utterly unfair that she should be taken from them so earlier, that she wouldn't see her daughters married or meet her grandchildren. Mary knew that the War should've made her familiar with death, as it had for so many families she knew, but theirs had been strangely untouched, barring poor William of course. Perhaps this was God's way of evening things up, or perhaps there was no God at all and it was all blind unfeeling chance.

The sun was almost completely up now burning away the early morning mist and Mary knew she should get back inside to be ready for Anna. As she made her way slowly back towards the house she saw solitary figure standing on the steps smoking. It was Matthew.

As he saw her he quickly extinguished his cigarette and discarded it, blowing the final lungful of smoke away from Mary.

"Sorry," he said bashfully, "Bad habit which I picked up in the trenches. Calms my nerves. What are you doing out so early?"

"I couldn't sleep." Mary answered.

"Of course, I'm sorry."

They stood together for a moment surveying the morning, Matthew with his hands in his pockets and Mary with her arms wrapped round herself for warmth.

"Matthew," Mary began hesitantly, "Thank you for everything you've done, with Papa being, so, well, you know..."

"You don't need to thank me. It's my duty as your father's heir to support him when he needs it, and I'm very glad to be able to look after you too." He paused. "Sorry, that's a terribly inappropriate thing to say, forgive me."

There was silence again. Mary wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. She looked at Matthew, Matthew who she knew she would always love however inappropriate it was, and without speaking, almost without thinking, she took his hand in hers.

If Matthew was shocked he didn't show it, and they continued to stand hand in hand for another few minutes savouring the oasis before the day really began, before they had to say goodbye to Cora, and to each other.

* * *

Mary stood arm in arm with Richard as Rev. Travis recited the words of the committal over her mother's grave. Words which she had heard before, but which seemed to take on a much greater poignancy when they were being said about her Mama.

"We therefore commit her body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ..."

Mary didn't feel sure or certain about anything, certainly not that there was really a God behind all of this, but with her mother lying in a coffin she wanted to believe in something. She needed to believe that she was in a better place, that everything was not in vain. She shut her eyes, swollen from crying, and tried to pray for her Mama's soul.

When she opened her eyes, Travis seemed to have finished and she watched as the gathered mourners began to depart slowly back toward the village. She watched her father, flanked by her Granny and Aunt Rosamund, kneel down beside the grave and drop something into it. Robert had dark rings around his eyes and he looked like he had lost weight. Mary had barely seen him since Cora's death; he'd shut himself away in his room refusing all company and barely touching the food sent up for him. When Mary had managed to speak with him he'd seemed unfocused and unable to follow the thread of what she was saying. Dr. Clarkson had assured her that it was a mixture of exhaustion and grief, and that it would pass in time, but she was still deeply worried for him.

Mary turned to Richard, whose arm she was still holding.

"I'd like to speak with Papa before we leave. Will you wait and walk me back to the house?"

"Of course." Richard replied releasing her arm.

Mary approached Robert who was still standing beside the open grave. He looked even worse close up, though clearly Carson had been able to persuade him to have a shave which she knew had been a concern at one point this morning.

"Papa?" she said gently, touching his arm.

Robert looked round at her with red-rimmed eyes.

"Mary," he said quietly.

For the second time that day she was at a loss as to what to say, and so she leant towards him and kissed him on the cheek.

"I need some more time, Mary."

"Of course Papa. Take as long as you need."

As she turned back towards Richard she looked down at her mother's coffin. Lying on top of it was her father's wedding ring.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Matthew

Matthew had meant to stay at the big house only until the funeral, but in the days following it it was clear that Robert was not going to be up to managing the house or the estate for some time and so he had decided to prepare for a more extended sojourn in the house that would one day be his. Moseley had barely been able to contain his glee when he has asked him if he wouldn't mind splitting his time between Downton and Crawley House for a few weeks so he wouldn't be a burden to Carson who was already short of a footman and a valet, and who was also still recovering from the flu.

Lavinia was also well on the way to full health again, but their relationship was strained. She was still insistent that they should call off the wedding, but had agreed to stay with his mother until the funeral was over so as not to cause any embarrassment to the family. He was now on his way to see her to try and persuade her not to go back to London as she had been threatening but to stay and work things out with him.

Matthew had had plenty of time to think, to try and untangle his thoughts, and he'd decided that he had to try and make another go of it with Lavinia. He was not the kind of man who abandoned his fiancée without a fight. What he felt for Mary was real, but it was wrong. He had promised himself to Lavinia and he was a man of his word, a man of honour: he wouldn't take the easy way out.

As Crawley House came into view, Matthew stopped for a moment, leaning on a wall, to gather his courage. He already missed Mary. They had shared a more intimate relationship in the days leading up to Cora's funeral which he knew would now have to be over. With his whispers and her holding of his hand they had played the part of lovers, but it was only ever a dream; a suspension of reality under the most trying of situations. They were promised to others and, however Mary chose to act towards Carlisle, he wanted to do the right and honourable thing: he wanted to keep his word.

* * *

Matthew had sat stiffly with his mother and Lavinia for nearly half an hour when Isobel finally yielded to his silent pleading and left them on their own on the pretext of needing to post a letter in the village. He waited until he heard the front door shut behind her before speaking.

"Lavinia, my darling, we must be able to work this out. The thing with Mary was a moment of weakness and I am so so sorry. You must know how sorry I am."

"I do know how sorry you are. I can see how disappointed you are with yourself, but you're wrong: it was not a moment of weakness with Mary. You and Mary, it's not a one off thing is it? I don't know exactly what your history is, since you've never actually told me, but I do know that there has always been something between you, and probably always will be."

"But we've never, other than that one time, we've never, I would never do that to you again. I made such a mistake, Lavinia you must see that!"

"Seeing you kissing Mary broke my heart Matthew, but that wasn't your real mistake. Your real mistake was proposing to me instead of to her. And I am not going to make the mistake of marrying a man who is in love with someone else."

"But I love you Lavinia, and I am a man of my word."

"Oh Matthew!" Lavinia cried in an exasperated voice, "when will you stop trying to be more honourable than everyone else! I don't care what you promised me, I will not marry you because you are in love with Mary Crawley and the sooner you accept that, the sooner we might all stand a chance of being happy!"

Lavinia stood up, and Matthew followed suit.

"I'm going upstairs now to finish packing. I'm catching the 9 o'clock train to London tomorrow morning. If you can stop being so ridiculous I would be happy if you were to come and see me off."

With that she swept out of the room leaving Matthew open-mouthed and bewildered at this new Lavinia.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Matthew

After his tea with Lavinia, Matthew had walked back to the big house in a daze. He had never seen Lavinia like that, so confident and forthright, so sure of her own mind.

He had had a number of jobs to attend to on his return, in Robert's stead, which he had also navigated in the same daze. He'd had a meeting with Carson about Miss O'Brien's future, and about Thomas' request to be considered for the role of valet. On both topics they had been unable to make a decision with Robert's input and decided they would try and talk to him later in the day. He'd also made a return call to Murray who was keen to speak to Robert about Cora's will and invited him to visit in a week's time when he was hopeful that Robert would be back up and about. He'd finally spent a fruitless hour looking over estate paperwork left by Robert's very apologetic land agent who had assured him he was only doing so as it was urgent. It concerned various unpaid rent arrears but Matthew hadn't been able to concentrate enough to be able to unravel it; it all seemed a bloody mess to him, but he felt sure Robert would know what was going on.

He gave up on the paperwork with a thumping headache, and slipped out of the study doors to smoke in the garden sitting on the step. He exhaled the smoke wearily, as he tried to get a handle on his thoughts.

He had been so sure that keeping his word and marrying Lavinia was the right thing to do, despite his feelings for Mary. But this new Lavinia would simply not let him. The way she had spoken to him was so reminiscent of Mary he supposed it would be funny were he less tired, or the situation less serious.

"Stop trying to be more honourable than everybody else!"

He could not get her rebuke, for a rebuke it most certainly was, out of his head. Was that true? The words had resonated with him, but not in a good way. He was beginning to wonder if Lavinia was right and if he wasn't very arrogant? He had always thought of himself as a good kind of man, not perfect of course, but essentially good. Unfaithfulness was not something which he thought a man like himself would be guilty of, and yet he had been. He had been unfaithful to Lavinia. Yes, that one evening when he had danced with Mary, but also, if he was honest, many many times in his mind.

He had spent his whole life trying to be better than everyone else; to not make the same mistakes, to be quicker, braver, better; more honourable. He was a good man, he still wanted to be a good man, but perhaps like Lavinia had said he needed to stop trying to be better than he actually was; stop pretending he had the monopoly of honour.

He realised his cigarette had burned right down to his fingers as he had been thinking. He reached into his pocket for another and as he struck a match to light it he saw Mary walking up the path in front of him. She was, as ever, radiant and his heart involuntarily skipped a beat. Did all this musing leave him free to think about life with Mary again? Really? He still felt very conflicted.

Mary noticed him and waved. He stood up and extinguished his only partially smoked cigarette.

"Hello!" he said in greeting as she approached him.

"What are you doing?" she asked arching her eyebrows at him.

"Well, I was trying to go over those papers Jarvis brought over but they've given me a headache, so I was just getting some air. How about you?"

"Oh, nothing much really, just walking. Richard wants to go over to Haxby this afternoon so I'm going up to change."

Richard. The realisation hit him with a jolt. Mary was still engaged to Richard. The disappointment must've shown on his face.

"I know you don't like him Matthew, but he's not that bad."

Matthew regained his composure and tried to smile.

"I don't know him Mary. So I will have to trust your judgement."

Mary smiled back.

"How's Lavinia?"

"She's recovered well, thank you. She's actually going back to London tomorrow."

"Oh," Mary was clearly surprised. "I was hoping you would be staying to help us a bit longer, but, well of course Lavinia must be your priority."

Matthew paused. He wasn't sure how honest to be. It wouldn't be a lie to say that he wasn't going with her, but, equally, surely she would tell people their engagement was over once she arrived home. Telling Mary made it seem so definite though, and he still wasn't sure whether he wanted it to be.

"I'm not going with her."

Mary's face seemed to register relief and then curiosity, though she was always notoriously hard to read. He wanted to be honest with her, and felt she would be upset if she heard from someone else but couldn't find the words.

"Is everything alright?" Mary asked. Clearly she was able to read him better then he could her.

He sighed.

"Not really. Do you mind if I smoke?"

She shook her head. He struck a match to relight his half smoked cigarette and took a long lug.

"That night when we were dancing, Lavinia saw, she heard... She wants to end our engagement"

"Oh Matthew!" Mary said, her hand involuntarily moving up to cover her mouth in shock, "I'm so sorry, that's awful."

He took another long lug on his cigarette allowing the smoke to fill his lungs to capacity.

"I suppose it's nothing more than I deserve."

He rubbed his temples, his head still throbbing, and Mary touched him on his arm.

"If there's anything I can do to help, to make things better, then I will, I promise."

Matthew smiled at her and she briefly touched her hand on his arm.

"Mary! There you are! I was expecting you at the car ten minutes ago!"

Richard's rather exasperated voice broke the spell between them and Mary's hand flew off Matthew's arm and back to her side.

"Richard, I'm sorry, I lost track of time. Do forgive me. I just need to get my coat. Matthew, please excuse me."

She started off into the house and Matthew called after her.

"Mary! I would appreciate talking more about this, if you wouldn't mind?"

She turned and smiled.

"Of course not, we must talk more."

As Mary disappeared into the house Richard turned to Matthew.

"What do you need to talk to Mary about?"

"Oh, just family business."

Richard stalked off after Mary leaving Matthew alone with his cigarette.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Mary

Mary hated Haxby. Richard seemed to think that because it was bigger than Downton it must, therefore, be better. He didn't understand that Mary loved Downton, not because of it's size and status, but because it was home. She knew Downton like the back of her hand; were Richard willing to listen she could tell him stories of every room, every corridor, every heirloom. Haxby was nothing to her. It was simply big and rather vulgar.

She tuned back into Richard.

"What do you think my dear? Shall I give them the go ahead?"

Mary had no idea what he was asking, but since she knew that, whatever Richard did to Haxby she would still hate it, she made a noise of agreement.

"Excellent Mary, I will telephone the building firm in the morning. With electricity throughout and modern fitted kitchens downstairs this place will eclipse Downton - you'll see!"

She didn't see, and Richard would never understand how she felt about Downton because he never tried to. She didn't feel like arguing with him again, especially after her conversation with Matthew which had left her as confused as ever, so, again she murmured her agreement.

"What were you talking to Matthew about earlier?" Richard asked her.

Mary's mind went blank. What could she say? Richard had made it perfectly clear how he felt about her spending time with Matthew and, whilst he had been fairly lenient following her mother's death, she knew he would hit the roof if he knew that she was talking to him about his broken engagement.

"Oh, nothing really," she said as airily as she could, "Jarvis brought some estate paperwork over for Matthew to look at in Papa's absence and he was having difficulty understanding it, that's all."

"Hmmm," Richard said non-specifically, "that reminds me, we need to discuss your father: people are beginning to talk. They're saying he's lost his mind."

"Well they're wrong!" Mary said defensively. "What's there to discuss? He's grieving and he needs time."

"Mary, he's had time. He has a role, a duty in the community, if he doesn't start showing his face, or returning correspondence, then people will believe the rumours."

"He loved Mama a great deal, something I wouldn't expect you to understand," she spat at him, knowing she would make him angry and not caring, "it's not been two months since she died, what do people expect him to be doing? Throwing a county ball?"

"There's no need to get angry with me, I'm trying to protect your family. Your father must understand that he is expected to grieve in a certain way. All this locking himself away and refusing to eat or wash or dress, it's not the way it's done. And mud sticks which you, my dear, know better than most."

Tears welled in Mary's eyes, she was angry with Richard for being crass and insensitive and for, yet again, reminding her of her own shame, but she knew he had a point. She'd had a not dissimilar conversation with Edith earlier in the day, and she too had begun to pick up whisperings from the staff. But what could be done? She'd tried to encourage him to come down for meals, or to take a walk in the gardens, as had both her sisters, but to no avail. He continued to say he needed more time.

She looked up to find Richard had gone, moved on to survey the damage he could inflict on another room no doubt, and she suddenly had a vision of her future alone in a house she hated with a husband who wasn't there when she needed him. She shivered suddenly and tried to push the thought away. She thought instead of Matthew, of how his hand had felt in hers and of how the world seemed to stop whenever she kissed him. Oh, if only that could be her future and not this. She sighed, resigned as ever to the fact it couldn't be. Even if Lavinia had really thrown Matthew over, which she doubted, it made no difference; she was still shackled to Richard, the hateful Haxby and a loveless marriage.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Matthew

Matthew saw Lavinia, bathed in the morning sunshine and smoke from the waiting locomotive, before she saw him. He paused a brief moment to watch her standing alone with her cases, her golden hair covered with her travelling hat. She looked up and smiled as she saw him watching.

"I'm so glad you came. I rather thought I might have scared you away completely yesterday," she said as he approached.

He smiled.

"I haven't come to try and change your mind again, you don't need to worry. But I did want to say goodbye, and to say sorry. I've treated you abominably."

He hung his head. He was ashamed of how he had treated her; of using her to try and stamp out his feelings for Mary, and for not being brave enough to admit it when he had the chance.

Lavinia smiled at him and placed her hand on his chest, over his heart.

"You're a good man Matthew Crawley, don't forget that in all your guilt. You've made mistakes, but so have we all."

"I did you love you, you know," Matthew said looking back up at her.

"I know. I never doubted that you loved me. You've just never loved me like you love Mary. If you'd never met Mary then I imagine that we'd have been very happy, but life doesn't work like that."

"No, I suppose not."

The train whistled and a porter interrupted them.

"Beg your pardon Ma'am but you'll need to board if you're planning on travelling."

"I've got to go Matthew, but I want you to know how happy I am that we've parted as friends. Be happy! That's all I ask."

She leant towards him and kissed him on the cheek before boarding the train. He had a powerful déjà vu of Mary doing a very similar thing as he headed back off to France. As the train started to pull out of the station Lavinia leant out of the window to wave. She looked happy, exhilarated almost.

"Remember to be happy Matthew!" she called over the roar of the train.

Matthew waved back, and watched the train take Lavinia out of his life.

* * *

Matthew had a long list of things to do, but as he had walked back from the station to Downton he had felt a strange urge to visit the church. The whole business with Lavinia had left him acutely aware of his failings and shortcomings, of his sin he supposed those of a more religious persuasion would put it, and so had thought that maybe praying would give him some peace, or guidance, or preferably both.

Sitting on the hard pew he was beginning to regret his decision. He had no idea how to pray, or even what it was he wanted to say to God. He had never really prayed before, not even in the trenches. Men around him had prayed, and he'd joined in with an Amen when it seemed appropriate, but it had never seemed like it would do much good; better to face the Germans with your own strength mustered rather than relying on the whims of a god who both sides were claiming for their own.

He was suddenly aware of a presence next to him and he turned to find Reverend Travis sitting at the other end of the pew.

"Can I be of any assistance Mr. Crawley?" he said. His voice was kindly, like a doting grandfather.

"To be honest I'm not really sure why I'm here. I had thought to pray but now I'm here I'm not even sure I believe in God. I hope that doesn't shock you."

"I'm a clergymen, Mr. Crawley, people are always telling me they don't believe in God!"

"Isn't that a bit demoralising?"

"Not really. I tend to find that almost everyone is a practical theist."

"What do you mean?"

"People who tell me they don't believe in God usually end up praying to him, or railing against him, when something terrible happens. Which is strange were they to actually think there was no God at all."

"Touché Reverend." Matthew said with a smile.

Travis smiled back at him.

"We're you trying to pray about anything specific?"

Matthew paused. Perhaps some spiritual guidance would be helpful.

"I've been unfaithful to my fiancé. Actually, my former fiancé now I suppose."

There was a glimmer of recognition in Travis' eyes as he realised who Matthew was talking about. The glimmer vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"You're repentant?" Travis asked.

"Yes. I'm very ashamed of myself, and disappointed that I would do such a thing."

"And why did you do it?"

"I, um..."

Matthew faltered. He'd never thought about it like that. Why had he kissed Mary? Why had he not been able to be fully committed to Lavinia?

"I'm in love with someone else; I always have been."

There was, again, a flicker in Travis' eyes and Matthew assumed he was putting two and two together.

"That's not an excuse"

"No, I know. But it is an explanation."

"Mr Crawley, God does not ask us to be perfect, that would be impossible. He asks us to repent of our sins and seek to live a life which pleases him. If you are repentant, which it seems you are, then God will forgive you."

"In that case he seems to find forgiveness a lot easier than I do!"

Rev Travis smiled at him again, and stood up.

"God is in the business of forgiving people, Mr Crawley. Perhaps he's just had more practice than you?"

As the clergyman walked away Matthew felt like he'd been rebuked again.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Mary

Mary closed her father's door quietly behind her and tears welled in her eyes. She visited him daily, as she knew her sisters did, but there had been no obvious change in his condition for weeks. She usually read to him from the unopened paper which Carson left for him, and tried to keep him updated on what was going on downstairs but it never seemed to make any difference. He mostly stayed in his bed, rarely getting dressed and eating only when he was forced, usually by her Granny.

Dr. Clarkson had begun to mention a mental breakdown and suggested that, in his opinion, the best treatment was for him to talk about it with someone. Mary had tried to ask him how he was feeling, but, as always he simply said he needed more time. Mary was sure that there was more to it than her Mama's death but there seemed to be nothing further she could do to help him if he wouldn't talk to her - or to anyone for that matter.

Mary wiped the tears from her eyes as she saw Thomas approaching.

"Beg your pardon milady, but Mr. Crawley is asking for you, he's in the library."

"Thank you Thomas" she replied as she began to make her way downstairs.

It was strange to see Matthew sitting at her father's desk, but Mary knew he had every right to be sitting there. For the last two months he'd been running Downton and even Carson had begun to report directly to him. Mary smiled at him as she entered.

"Thomas said you were asking for me?"

"Yes, how's Robert?"

Mary dropped her eyes from his as she felt the tears reforming.

"No change I'm afraid" she said sadly.

Matthew stood from the desk and came towards her.

"We will find out how to help him, Mary, I promise" he said and he led her towards to sofa by the fire.

"Whisky?"

Mary smiled.

"It wouldn't be very ladylike of me to say yes!" she replied still smiling.

"I'll just take that as a yes" Matthew said as he poured them two glasses and sat down with her.

"To your father then"

As she briefly touched his glass with hers Mary looked up at Matthew. She was so grateful for him, for how he had been such a rock as everything else had turned upside down. He always seemed to inspire her with such hope.

"I think there's something more causing Papa's... illness... than just grief."

Matthew looked quizzically at her.

"I know I can never understand how it must feel to lose someone you love as much as Papa loved Mama, and perhaps I'm just clutching at straws for an explanation that doesn't exist, but I think there's something else alongside the grief, something I can't put my finger on."

Mary paused. She knew she sounded desperate, but she knew she was desperate.

"Will you talk to him Matthew? About things other than the estate I mean? He just, well, might find it easier to talk to you than me, or Edith or Sybil."

"I'm happy to try. For you."

Mary smiled gratefully and took a sip of her whisky which burned her throat as she swallowed.

"Now, what did you want to see me about?" She said as brightly as she could.

Matthew looked awkward she thought, looking down into his drink.

"Lavinia and I, it's definitely over. I've tried to persuade her to change her mind, but she's adamant she won't marry me."

Mary felt a strange contradiction of relief, sadness and guilt all at once.

"Because of that kiss?" she asked.

"Yes. I, well, I just wanted to let you know. I suppose everyone will know soon."

"I'm so sorry. I truly am."

"Thank you for that. I let her down."

"We both did."

"Perhaps"

There was a strange silence between them. Mary wanted to say something but she couldn't find the words. She couldn't work out how she felt. She was sad that he was so sad, and guilty for her part in breaking them up, but also, if she was honest, glad to have Matthew back to herself. Except she didn't really; there was Richard.

The door opened and Carson's voice provided a welcome relief from the silence.

"Sorry to interrupt milady, but Sir Richard is on the telephone for you."

Mary stood up and sighed. It was as if Richard knew, even from London, that they were having this conversation.

"Thank you Carson. Do excuse me Matthew."

* * *

Matthew

Matthew nursed his drink as he watched Mary leave the study to speak with Sir Richard. The door clicked shut behind her.

He wasn't sure what he had really been expecting Mary to say, but somehow he wished the conversation had been different. He was still so conflicted about everything that it was hard for him to know what he really wanted.

His overriding feeling was still guilt at the way he had behaved, and disappointment that he was not the man he wished he was. But there was a growing acknowledgment, acceptance even, that he was still in love with Mary; that he had always been in love with Mary and with that came a return to all his many unanswered questions as to her feelings for him and what the hell she was doing with Richard.

Did their kiss mean nothing to her? Was she just playing with him again? He didn't want to believe that; he thought that he knew her, really knew the Mary underneath the mask, but all his doubts and fears from before the War seemed to rush back to the forefront of his mind. Back then he had been so confused, and he wasn't sure he'd ever really understood why Mary could not commit to him. He'd had to convince himself that she didn't really love him and that she'd just been stringing him along for his inheritance. But that was seven years ago, and things still felt the same when they were together: like nothing else mattered in the whole world. Could it still be a game for Mary? Even now?

Matthew sighed. If Richard were honourable and kind, if he showed any signs of devotion to Mary or if he could be convinced that Mary was in love with him and would be happy with him, then he supposed he would be able to believe that she had simply chosen him instead. But Richard was not honourable or kind, he was rough with Mary and Mary seemed indifferent at best to him. And everything about Mary's behaviour since their reunion during the War suggested that she loved him, that she had always loved him. Certainly that's what Violet believed, and that's how it felt when they were together. So why did Mary persist in her engagement to Richard? He thought her perfectly capable of throwing him over if she wanted to, so could only conclude that she didn't want to.

Matthew's drink was empty, and he heard Carson ringing the dressing gong. Time to move on, he thought. There was much else to occupy him: Murray was coming at the end of the week to discuss Cora's will, there was still so much he didn't understand about the running of the estate and Miss O'Brien had handed in her notice. He stood up, replaced his glass on the sideboard and went upstairs to get dressed for dinner.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

Matthew

Matthew knocked softly on Robert's door. He had promised Mary that he would try and talk to him and, however confused he was about her, he wanted to keep his promise even though the thought of asking Robert personal questions made his insides squirm. There was no answer, but that was usual so he opened the door slowly and poked his head round.

Robert was sitting up in bed and didn't even acknowledge the opening of the door. He was thinner than Matthew had ever seen him, unshaven and still in his nightclothes. Matthew took a deep breath and entered the room as brightly as he could.

"Good morning Cousin Robert" he said more cheerfully than he felt.

He went over to the curtains and opened them allowing a bright shaft of light into the room. Robert squinted as the light hit his face.

"Are you trying to blind me?"

Matthew smiled. It was as good a start as he could've hoped for. Often Robert simply ignored him completely. He had a plan crudely thought up the night before.

"I need to talk to you, about something, well, personal. I need some advice."

He rang the bell for some tea for them and could see Robert's expression change as he prepared to make his usual excuses, but Matthew got in first.

"Robert, I know what you're going to say, but you're the closest thing I have to a father and I need you. I've done something that I bitterly regret, and I'm confused and conflicted and I need to know what you think I should do. Please don't deny me that."

There was silence, the walls seemed to reverberate with Matthew's impassioned speech. Carson entered with the tea which he poured for them both and then, sensing an atmosphere, quietly left them.

"I'm sure I won't be able to be of any help, but please sit down and talk to me."

Robert spoke quietly and kindly and Matthew saw a flash of the former Lord Grantham. He pulled up a chair beside Robert's bed and sat down with his tea.

"Lavinia's left me" he said starkly.

Robert looked confused, and then concerned.

"My dear boy! Why ever would she do that?"

Matthew bowed his head, still ashamed of what he had done and embarrassed to be talking to Mary's father about it. But he had promised Mary he would try and talking about his own problems seemed like it might be the way to get Robert to open up about his.

"I deserved it Robert. I don't hold it against her."

"I don't believe that for a second Matthew."

"I'm afraid you have to Robert. The awful truth is that I wasn't faithful to her. She saw me kissing another woman."

Robert's eyes widened. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then suddenly burst into tears.

Matthew felt wretched as Robert dissolved into great hacking sobs in front of him. This was certainly not how he had imagined this conversation going.

"Robert, I, Oh God, I know how disappointed you must be, I'm sorry that I'm not a better man."

Robert wiped his eyes.

"No, Matthew it's not that."

He looked conflicted, as if he wanted to say something. Matthew felt out of his depths and confused himself at Robert's reaction. He watched as Robert's eyes glazed over in the way he'd become used to over recent months and he closed down.

"I can't talk about this now Matthew. I'm sorry I know you won't be able to understand. Maybe one day you will."

"Robert, I can't leave with you thinking badly of me."

"I promise you I don't think badly of you. Quite the opposite really. I just need some more time."

Matthew got up. Robert's familiar refrain made it clear that the conversation was over and he had a splitting headache anyway. Why must the Crawleys all be so damn cryptic!

Robert called him back as he reached the door.

"Matthew, who was the other woman?"

Matthew's stomach lurched inside him. He had always thought to keep the details vague and hope Robert didn't ask. He looked Robert squarely in the face as he spoke.

"It was Mary."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

Mary:

Mary replaced the telephone receiver with more of a bang than was strictly necessary. God, Richard made her so angry sometimes!

The news that Lavinia Swire had thrown over Matthew Crawley, the future Earl of Grantham, had hit London and had clearly sent Richard into a jealous rage. He'd taken to calling her two or three times a day and demanding to know what she'd been doing and whether she'd seen Matthew at all. Truth be told she'd not seen him since that awkward conversation about Lavinia and she was beginning to wonder if he was avoiding her; he seemed to have finally moved back to Crawley House, or was at least hiding out there.

Richard was coming up to Downton at the weekend to discuss their wedding date with Rev Travis. She'd tried to protest that they couldn't go ahead with her Papa as he was, but Richard had been insistent and nothing she could say would change his mind.

Mary bit back tears of frustration and despair knowing that she was on a trajectory to marrying Richard in just a few months. He'd made it abundantly clear a number of times in the last few days that he would not hesitate to publish the details of her liaison with Pamuk if she delayed any longer, and she knew that would kill her Papa in his current state. She was utterly trapped in a hell of her own making.

As she made her way back towards the sitting room she noticed Mr. Murray, her father's solicitor, waiting awkwardly in the hall.

"Mr. Murray, are you alright? Can I help?"

"I do beg your pardon my lady" Murray said, more than a hint of embarrassment obvious in his voice. "Only I'm meant to be seeing Lord Grantham. Carson went to fetch him, but there must be some sort of problem as he's been gone for some time. I don't want to bother him, or any of you, but it is quite an urgent matter, to do with your mother."

Mary's frustration at Richard was suddenly redirected towards her father and she let out an involuntary sigh in exasperation. It suddenly felt very unfair that her Papa was allowed to lock himself away and refuse to face what had happened and instead leave her to deal with everything. And why oh why had Carson not shown Murray into the study or the drawing room?

"I'm so sorry Mr. Murray. Come and wait in the study and I'll go and see what's taking so long."

She ushered Murray into the study and rang for tea, her resolve hardening within her. She might not be able to change the situation with Richard but she was damn well going to try and sort out whatever was ailing Papa.

* * *

Matthew:

Matthew and Carson were standing in Lord Grantham's bedroom. The latter feeling helpless and the former exasperated. Murray was downstairs having arrived for his prearranged meeting with Robert who was now flatly refusing to go down and see him.

Matthew could see Carson twitching at the thought of having left a guest stranded in the hall, but had refused to allow him to go downstairs and make Robert's apologies. Matthew had spoken with Murray on several occasions in the months since Cora's death and he'd been increasingly insistent that he needed to speak privately with Robert and then with the whole family in regards to Cora's will. Matthew had expressed some surprise that Cora had a will given her fortune was tied up in Downton but Murray had said she wanted to bequeath some of her personal jewellery and, more cryptically, that there were some letters that needed delivering. Whatever it was it was clearly important but Robert continued to refuse to engage with anything to do with Cora, or the estate or the family.

Just as Matthew was about to give up and send Carson downstairs to dispatch Murray, the bedroom door was flung open and Mary marched in. There was a steely grey determination in her eyes that Matthew hadn't seen for a long time. She caught his eye briefly and, despite himself, he felt his insides turn over.

"Papa!" she said sharply, "It is time. We need you. I need you."

Her voice caught as she finished and Matthew thought she might cry, but the steely determination of old won out and she held Robert's eye, both sides pleading silently with each other.

Robert looked away first and, to Matthew's amazement, turned to Carson.

"I think I might need to get dressed, Carson."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

Mary

Mary looked round the room at her family assembled at her father's request in the library.

Her sisters, Edith and Sybil were talking quietly to each other. Mary knew that both had had their lives on hold in different ways since their mother had died. Sybil had carried on her relationship with the chauffeur as discreetly as possible but Mary knew they were still set on the idea of marrying at some point and were just waiting for Robert to be well enough. Mary had watched Sybil and Branson's relationship from the sidelines and been quietly jealous that her sister seemed to have found someone who loved her enough to wait for her and fight for her. Even Matthew had never seemed able to fight for her, though she supposed that she hadn't made it very easy for him.

Her eyes roved passed her Granny, indefatigable as ever, onto her father sitting on his own lost in his own thoughts. He still wasn't a well man and still spent a great many days in his bedroom, but there were also days when he was able to get up and see people. Dr. Clarkson had persuaded him to engage a specialist from Harley Street who was pioneering something called psychoanalysis and who Robert saw three or four times a week. As far as Mary could make out the treatment was just talking but it seemed to be helping and for that Mary was eternally grateful.

The door opened suddenly and Matthew burst in, looking flustered and ever so slightly dishevelled.

"I'm so sorry I'm late" he apologised pushing back the hair that had fallen into his eyes.

Matthew's entrance allowed Mary a rare moment to study him without giving Richard cause to interrogate her. She tried to drink him in: his unruly hair, his soft lips, those piercing blue eyes. She closed her eyes for a moment as she tried to create another memory of Matthew before Richard closeted her away from him at Haxby forever. The wedding was now set three months from hence; there really was no escape.

Her father cleared his throat and she was brought out of her reverie and back to the present. Robert was standing now ready to speak.

"My dear family" he started, "I am so grateful for you coming today at my request. I wanted, first, to express my sincere thanks for your love and patience during my illness these past months since we lost Cora."

He paused, composing himself again.

"I do not pretend to be fully recovered, nor do I want to fool myself or you in pretending that the road ahead of me is an easy one, but I am grateful to Dr. Clarkson and Dr. Sandford in helping me to understand some things about myself, and trying to find a way forward. I owe them, and you all, a sincere debt of gratitude."

He paused again and then looked over to where Mr. Murray was sitting.

"But, important though that is, that is not the reason I asked you to come today. The reason is that prior to her death it appears that Cora, ever the practical one, had the foresight to write some letters to you all and make some bequests from her personal property. Now, Murray here has made the necessary enquiries to prove that they are genuine and Miss O'Brien has confirmed that she did write some letters at Cora's dictation and the maid Daisy has confirmed that she did post them as requested to Mr. Murray once she learnt of Cora's passing."

Robert paused again, clearly overcome with grief and Mary jumped up to comfort him.

"Mr. Murray, I'm sure you can take things from here?" she said leading her Papa back to his seat and crouching beside him.

"Papa, are you alright? Do you need to retire?"

Robert shook his head and Mary, feeling a little unsure of what she should be doing, returned to her seat as Murray began handing out envelopes and small brown packages.

She held the cream envelope in her hand with some trepidation. It said simply 'Mary' on the front presumably in O'Brien's script.

Before she could begin to think how and when she wanted to read the contents Richard took the letter from her hand sharply.

"I think it's best that I read this first as you shall shortly be my wife. I can advise you of its contents and implications."

Mary felt rage course through her. Rage that a man who was to be her husband would be so callous as to assert his authority over her at the expense of her chance to read in private her mother's dying words to her. Rage that she was trapped to such a man. Rage at her own foolish youthful self.

Almost on instinct she snatched the letter back from him, stood up and left the room.

* * *

Matthew

Matthew sprung out of his chair without thinking of the consequences. He'd seen Richard mistreat Mary one too many times and he couldn't sit by and do nothing. He stuffed the envelope from Cora into his jacket pocket and made for the door.

As he was about to leave Murray caught his arm and handed him a small brown package. He raised an eyebrow quizzically at the lawyer.

"The instructions were to give it to you privately Sir".

For a moment Matthew was baffled, but then he remember Mary and hurried out of the door and down the hall. He caught up with her as she was about to head upstairs and called to her.

"Mary!"

She turned slowly, her raven hair catching the last of the sunlight slaking through the front windows and lighting her up like an angel and taking his breath away - again.

"Can I help?" was all he managed to say, cursing himself inwardly for not saying something better.

Mary smiled wryly but her eyes were filled with tears.

"After today I won't insult you by asking what you mean."

Matthew almost cut her off. He couldn't bear to see her so sad, so resigned.

"You don't have to marry him you know?" he said, urgently and quietly, knowing Richard could interrupt them at any minute.

"You don't have to marry anyone. You'll always have a home here as long as I'm alive."

He wasn't sure what he expected her to say but he couldn't continue to watch her throw her life away. He watched as her face softened and the tears in her eyes threatened to escape down her cheeks. This was one of those rare moments when he knew he was seeing behind Mary's mask.

"You're wrong." she said sadly. "I do have to marry him."

Matthew was stunned. Mary had thrown all the pieces of the jigsaw up in the air again and he almost saw them spinning through the air around him. He'd never understood Mary's desire to marry Richard but he'd never thought her hand was being forced. He felt his hackles rise instinctively; wanting to protect her.

"Why? Not to prove you've broken with me surely. We know where we stand. We've no need for... gestures!"

Mary looked forlorn, the mask truly dropped, and Matthew's heart ached for her.

"If I told you the reason, you'd despise me, and that I really couldn't bear."

"Mary?"

Cousin Violet's voice cut through their whispered conversation, breaking the spell.

Mary turned away from him to face her Granny.

"I've had quite enough excitement for one night! Can you get Carson to call the car to take me home?"

"Of course".

She turned briefly back to him her face composing itself back into its unreadable mask before turning again in search of Carson, and Matthew bit down a thousand questions.


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's note: thanks for all your lovely comments. I'm glad you're enjoying it! I just wanted to say that the eagle-eyed among you will notice from the canon dialogue in this chapter that I've taken the decision to leave the Bates storyline out. I'm sorry to all you Anna/Bates shippers but I tried and just couldn't do it justice in the framework I've created._

* * *

Chapter 12:

Mary

It was late and Mary felt like a little girl again. She had waited until Anna had gone and she was sure that everyone would be asleep and then she had taken out the matches she'd hidden in her dresser and lit her bedside candle.

When she was a girl she'd wanted to read books or, as she grew up, love letters from long-forgotten boys, but tonight she wanted to read her Mama's letter when she would be sure no one, not even Anna who she trusted more than anyone, would see. It wasn't about trust, it was about privacy.

The candle flickered slightly as she pulled out the letter which she'd hidden underneath the mattress. Carefully, almost reverently, she opened it and read.

 _My dear Mary,_

 _If you're reading this then I have not managed to beat this awful sickness. If that's the case then I want you to know two things. Firstly, that I am confident that death is not the end and that God will raise me up to be with him. Secondly, I die loving you, your sisters and your father so very much. You have all been such a blessing to me in so many ways and I have naught but happy, special memories of you all to take with me._

 _Being ill has taught me that life is so short, Mary. And if you have the chance to be happy then you should seize it with both hands because you might not get another chance. I want you to be happy Mary and that means you must no longer define yourself by mistakes you have made in the past. I know I have encouraged you to do that previously but I was wrong and I'm sorry. One foolish misjudgment in your youth should not consign you to a lifetime of misery. Life is too short. If Richard is holding you hostage to the past then you must be brave, face the storm and free yourself to be happy. I know that if you tell Papa he'll stand by you and I think the same is probably true for Matthew._

 _Know that I love you so very much and be happy Mary, be happy for me._

 _Your loving Mama._

Tears rolled down Mary's face as she folded the letter back up. She did, so desperately, want to be free. Free of Richard and his threats, free of the past and her mistakes, free to love Matthew. But her Mama could not have known how ill her father would be, how much a revelation like this could set him back or even push him over the edge.

She loved her Mama for wanting to free her but she knew that she couldn't do what she asked of her. She blew the candle out and laid back down on her pillow in the dark holding onto one thing: her mother loved her. That would have to be enough.

* * *

Mary woke with a start the next morning as Anna opened the curtains. She'd lain awake in the dark for hours after reading her mother's letter and fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep just before dawn. Judging by the strength of the sunlight streaming in through the open window she'd obviously slept late.

"Beg you pardon milady" Anna said apologetically, "I wasn't going to wake you but Lord Grantham is asking for you and he says it's urgent."

Mary rushed through her morning routine impatient to see what her father wanted. His illness meant that she always worried of a setback, or a relapse. Perhaps Sybil and Branson had made their move? She would understand if they had but she was terrified as to the impact that might have on her father's health.

She smoothed down he dress as she reached the library door, took a moment to compose herself and pushed the door open gently.

Her father was sitting down, and stood up as she entered. The months since Cora's death had aged Robert irreversibly. His hair had thinned and face sagged and his presence no longer commanded the room as it once had, but he had returned to them in a way that seemed impossible even a month ago. She smiled at him, unable to suppress the joy she felt at seeing him up and about.

"Mary!" he said gently by way of return and kissed her.

She felt impatient as her father went through the routine of asking how she'd slept and whether she wanted him to order her some breakfast. Fine and no thanks she'd replied trying to urge the conversation towards the reason for her summons. Robert took the hint.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course"

"Do you stay with Carlisle because he's threatened to expose the story of Mr. Pamuk dying in your bed?"

Mary felt like she'd been hit by a brick wall. Her father knew about Pamuk? And about Richard? How? And what must he think of her?! She fumbled around for a response.

"When did you find out?"

Robert's eyes misted over slightly and he reached for a letter sitting open on the desk.

"Your mother told me" he said indicating the letter which she could see was in the same O'Brien script as hers.

She gasped and a million questions flew into her mind. Her thoughts crystallised into her one main concern.

"How very disappointed you must be" she said sadly bowing her head away from his gaze and the gaze of the letter.

"Your Mama chose her words, and her timing, well. And you're not the first Crawley to made a mistake..."

Mary could hear the regret in his voice and she feared for a moment that she might lose him to his thoughts and his illness, but he resurfaced quickly.

"So," he said again, "is what your Mama tells me true? Do you stay with Carlisle because he's threatened you with scandal if you don't?"

She hesitated and her Mama's words to her floated towards her from beyond the grave: he'll stand by you. She tried to keep her tone light and indifferent but inside she felt like she was screaming.

"It is partly true, though not entirely. I am damaged goods now and Richard is, after all, prepared to marry me in spite of it, to give me a position, to give me a life."

"And that's worth it? Even though he already sets your teeth on edge? What about Matthew? How does he view the late Mr Pamuk?"

Mary was thrown sideways for a moment. Matthew? Did Matthew know too? Perhaps Mama had written to him as well. Everything seemed to be happening so fast!

"He doesn't know. At least, I don't think he knows."

Robert was obviously surprised.

"So that's not what split you apart? I thought it might have been..."

"Oh, no. Well, not directly anyway. There were other reasons, and Lavinia..."

Mary tailed off. She often wondered what would've happened if she'd been brave enough to tell Matthew about Pamuk all those years ago. She knew how confused and unsure she'd made him with her dithering but she had also been so sure that he would reject her if he knew. How could he not? She'd broken his heart by not being honest with him, but he'd have broken hers if she had.

Robert stood up, still holding the letter from her Mama.

"Here's what I think, and what I know your mother thinks, thought, because she's told me. Break with Carlisle. He may publish, but we can ride it out. You could go to America until the fuss dies down, hell we could all go to America if we need to. We may find the new world is to our taste!"

Mary could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Her Mama was right! Papa would stand by her, and more than that he would fight for her and protect her.

"Are you sure Papa? What about your health? Richard will keep my secret if I marry him."

"Once I might have thought that a good thing. But I've been through a war and the Spanish Flu since then, to say nothing of your sister's choice of husband. I don't want my daughter to be married to a man who threatens her with ruin. I want a good man for you, a brave man. You must tell Matthew and grab your chance to be happy Mary. If he won't have you then find a cowboy in the Middle West and bring him back to shake us all up. But whatever you do, Mary, you must choose the chance to be happy!"

Relief flooded Mary in a tangible, physical way. Her shoulders relaxed and she laughed out loud! The secret weight of the shame she'd been carrying around for seven years had gone; taken off her shoulders by her dear Papa. She looked up at him and knew that, whatever anyone else said, including Matthew, she would be alright with him by her side.

"Oh, Papa!" she cried, tears of joy etching their way down her face.

He smiled at her and embraced her as she stood. Mary held tight to him, feeling safe as she buried herself into his neck like she had done when a child. She was safe. Safe from Richard, same from Pamuk. Safe with her Papa.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Matthew

Matthew was hurrying up the drive towards Downton, the big house rearing up in front of him out of the morning mist which had now, mostly, been burnt off by the sun. He hadn't slept since dawn and was both exhausted and wide awake at the same time.

He'd woken at first light thinking of Mary. He'd spent the hours before sunrise replaying their conversation and imagining ever more tortured scenarios in which Mary would feel she had to marry Carlisle against her will. It had driven him crazy with frustration and fear and he had resolved that he would go up to the big house as soon as the hour permitted him to decently.

He'd passed the early morning pacing Crawley House and driving his mother to distraction until he deemed it late enough to make an appearance at Downton and called Moseley for his coat. It was at this point that he realised Cora's letter and package were still in his pocket unopened and completely forgotten about and he decided to pause in his plans to read them.

Sitting in the morning sunlight at Crawley House he had opened the letter addressed to him and read:

 _My dear Matthew,_

 _If you're reading this then I have not managed to beat this awful sickness. If that's the case then I feel it is my duty to make some things clear to you. Things which I, in my folly, had sought to keep hidden._

 _Firstly, I want you to know how grateful I am that you have become part of our family here at Downton. Robert and I love you dearly, as if you were our own son, and we know that the estate is safe in your hands_.

 _More importantly, though, you need to know that Mary still loves you, that she's always loved you. I know she can be hard and cold when she wants to be but I also think that you have also seen behind that facade, to the real Mary. When you proposed to her all those years ago now, she came to me for my advice and I asked her whether she loved you, and she said that she did and that she had loved you for longer than she knew. You may wonder, then, why she did not accept you immediately and there is a reason, a reason which had nothing to do with the question over your inheritance (that was just unfortunate timing) and was to do with something that had happened a year or so previously. It is not my secret to tell and I will not break Mary's confidence, but you need to know, you must know, that her love for you was never in doubt. Her only desire was to be honest with you and, to my shame, I sought to dissuade her of that idea and so she dithered long enough to make you doubt her love for you._

 _Please, whatever happens, try and help her to be honest with you and with Robert. Help her to do what she wanted to all those years ago and which I, foolishly, prevented. And I hope that you will be able to love her again, as I know she loves you._

 _Your affectionate cousin,_

 _Cora_

 _PS: the gift is my engagement ring which I hope you may have cause to need_.

The letter had made his head spin and his insides squirm. Mary loved him. Mary had always loved him. Could this possibly be true? What had Mary done that had meant she'd not been able to accept his proposal? Or what had been done to her? His fists clenched in anger as he began to cycle through in his mind all the terrible things that it could be.

Just as he had worked himself up into a frenzy of anger, one of the servant boys from Downton had burst into the room.

"Beg your pardon, Sir" he said slightly out of breath. "Lord Grantham wants to see you urgently!"

* * *

And so he found himself heading up the drive towards the big house that would one day be his. His head and heart aching, and his nerves on edge.

Upon arrival Carson took his coat and hat, asked him to wait in the hall and told him that Robert would be with him presently. As he waited he tried to calm himself down; tried to tell himself he was overreacting. It couldn't possibly be as bad as he had been imagining. Or could it?

The library door opened and Matthew took a step back in surprise as Mary came through the door, her face pale and tear stained but a smile, a real smile, on her face. Mary seemed equally surprised to see him and, uncharacteristically, unsure what to do with herself. She stopped, did a sort of bob at him and scampered away upstairs.

Feeling even more confused, Matthew ventured into the doorway and knocked. Robert looked up from the desk he was sitting at and smiled at him to come in. He looked tired and unwell again, but his smile seemed genuine and so Matthew went in and sat down.

"My dear boy" he said smiling at him again.

"Robert, are you well? I'm sure we can do this some other time if you're not."

"I'm tired Matthew, and I do need to rest, but not yet. There are some things that I need to do before I can rest. Thank you for coming up at such short notice."

"I, er, well I'm happy to."

Words failed Matthew as he continued to try and process all the information he'd received in the last twenty four hours. There was an awkward silence as both men contemplated the other, both waiting for the other to say something. It was Robert who broke the silence.

"A while ago you came to me to seek my advice. You told me that you'd been unfaithful to Lavinia and that's why she'd ended your engagement."

Matthew nodded, painfully aware that Robert was omitting Mary's name in his summary.

"I am sure that you were perplexed by my response to your revelation that day, and I certainly wasn't able to give you any advice."

How could Matthew forgot Robert's hacking sobs as he'd spoken of his infidelity? He'd been mortified that his behaviour could've sparked such grief.

"I, well, my behaviour was abhorrent. I wasn't thinking straight bringing it to you when you were ill."

"No Matthew, my response wasn't because of what you'd done, it was because of what I'd done."

Matthew's brows furrowed.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand..."

"In the weeks leading up to Cora's death I, too, was unfaithful. Your admission simply pointed a finger to my own guilt, guilt that I was not equipped at that point to deal with, guilt that was eating me alive."

Matthew could not believe what he was hearing. Robert was unfaithful to Cora? No, he must have misunderstood. They were the golden couple, they were happy, they were in love. He fumbled around for something to say but he couldn't find anything that measured up to the magnitude of what he'd just heard so he opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish for what seemed like an age before Robert spoke again.

"It is inexcusable and I will live with the consequences of my actions for the rest of my life but Dr. Sandford has been helping me to be able to face up to what I have done, to who I am, and Cora, well Cora is amazing..."

He waved the letter which had been sitting opened on his desk.

"I think some things should stay between a husband and wife, but suffice to say that she writes that she knew things had been strained between us in the months prior to her illness, but that whatever's happened in the past she wants me to know that she holds nothing against me and she loves me."

Robert choked back a sob, clearly still overcome at his wife's words. Matthew knew he needed to say something, to comfort Robert or reassure him. He felt shock, yes, but also compassion and tenderness for the man who was like a father to him. This was a man who had made a mistake like him, and who was suffering because he didn't have the chance to put it right.

"Robert, I can't imagine what you've been going through."

"Nothing I don't deserve Matthew. I took Cora for granted and I thought I had all the time in the world. It is foolishness in the extreme not to cherish the ones you truly love if you can. Life is so short and before you know it they can be gone."

Matthew began to understand why Robert wanted to see him.

"Is this about Mary? I want to love her Robert, I want to help her, but I don't know how and I don't know if I should. It was Lavinia I was unfaithful to, not Mary. Whatever Mary's going through it can't excuse my behaviour."

"My boy, I do not pretend that our predicaments are the same, or even similar. And in no way do I condone you and Mary carrying on behind Lavinia's back..."

Matthew winced at Robert's phraseology. But he knew it was a fair description.

"...but what I have learnt is that you only have one life, one chance, and that it is short and all too fleeting. If your heart lies with Lavinia then you must go to her and seek her forgiveness and win her back. If your heart lies with Mary then you must move on from past mistakes and fight for the chance to be happy with her, to love her. We're neither of us the perfect men we perhaps thought we were, but you, at least, have the he chance to sort things out. And you must do - one way or the other - or you will regret it for the rest of your life!"

Matthew knew he was right. Even before he'd read Cora's letter he knew he had to do something, that he had to fight for Mary. Fight to get her out of Carlisle's clutches, yes, but also to fight for their chance to be happy together. He'd not fought for her before the War when he should've done; instead he'd allowed his wounded pride to push her away and then tried to fill the void she left with Lavinia. Dear, sweet Lavinia who loved him enough to want him to be happy even if it was with someone else.

"It's always been Mary," he said quietly looking Robert full in the eye. "We just haven't ever found a way to say that to each other and to be together. And there's Carlisle..."

"Forget Carlisle!" Robert said with passion. "I hope very soon that Mary will be brave enough to break with him, but she will need you when she does."

Matthew felt suddenly and irrationally jealous that Robert seemed to know more about what was going on with Carlisle than he did.

"I suppose you won't tell me what's going on with Carlisle either then?" he said trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"It's not my story to tell." Robert replied, echoing Cora's words.

Matthew rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on, but also knowing what he had to do.

"I will fight for her Robert. Whatever she's done I will fight for her."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Matthew:

After his meeting with Robert, Matthew had asked Carson to call Dr. Clarkson to check on Robert and then headed back to Crawley House with a sense of focus and determination about him that he hadn't felt for a very long time. There was still much that he didn't understand but he had a plan and he was sure as hell not going to let Mary get away from him this time.

He sat down at his desk and pulled out paper, pen and ink and began to write.

 _Dear Lavinia,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well and enjoying life. I heard that your father has not been well and I hope you will give him my regards and best wishes for his recovery._

 _In the months since you left Downton I've been forced by circumstance to do some soul searching and I feel I owe you a final explanation and apology for all that transpired between us. I know you have, inexplicably, forgiven me and for that I am eternally grateful, but writing this letter is part of a journey I need to make and I hope you will bear with me._

 _You were right: I have loved Mary Crawley since the moment I laid eyes on her. Just before the War broke out I asked her to marry me and she hesitated long enough to wound my pride and my black and white notion of love and, piqued, I went off to fight hoping that distance, time and war would expunge Mary from my heart. When I proposed to you I believed that I had achieved that. I did love you but I was naive in thinking that time and a new relationship would be enough to change how I felt about Mary, especially when I simply hadn't seen her for two years._

 _My weakness has always been pride, I've seen that so clearly in myself over these last few months in a way I never have done before. When I realised that my feelings for Mary had not diminished, whatever our respective circumstances, I should've been honest with you, I should've been honest with myself. But I wasn't. I was too sure of my own innate honourableness and goodness that I truly believed that I could and should marry you and squash how I felt about Mary. I thought I was able to hide how I felt inside and make you happy, but I couldn't and I should never have put you in that awful position of having to witness me confessing my feelings to Mary whilst still being engaged to you. I have apologised profusely before and I will remain ashamed of my behaviour that night for the rest of my life._

 _When you left me you asked me to be happy and because I know how dear and sweet and kind you are I believe that you truly meant it. I hope that you meant it because I am going to try and be happy, to try and fight for Mary and be with her. I don't yet know whether we will manage to make it work, but I wanted to make sure you knew before any rumours hit London._

 _I do hope you read this letter in the spirit that it is meant; a spirit of reconciliation and atonement and that we can, in time, be friends._

 _Yours,_

 _Matthew_

* * *

Mary

It had been some hours since Mary's conversation with her father and, having taken lunch in her bedroom complaining of a headache, she decided it was time to venture downstairs and summon up the courage to call Richard. She knew she needed to speak with him in person so she would have to wait until tomorrow at the earliest before she could get things properly over with.

She went downstairs to find a commotion as her father's dog, Isis, had gone missing. Robert had taken to his bed before lunch and was asking for the dog but she was nowhere to be found.

"You would have thought the a good Lord would've spared him the loss of his dog at such a time!" Mrs Hughes said to Mary as she enquired what was the problem.

Just at that moment Matthew came through the front door. Mary's heart leapt at the opportunity to speak to him before she had to telephone Richard. Her father's reaction had given her hope that Matthew too might not disown her should her story come out and the idea of facing Richard with her father and Matthew at her side made it feel ever so slightly less daunting.

"Gosh, what's the problem?" Matthew said, clearly taken aback to find half the staff in the hallway.

"We've lost Isis, and Papa is missing her." Mary replied forcing herself to put everything else aside in front of the servants.

"Well, we should organise a search party, ask the menservants to join us. Then we can apply some real method. Wouldn't you agree, Carson?" Matthew turned to face the butler who nodded in agreement.

They headed out, along with all the servants and villagers that Carson could muster, to search for Isis. Whilst she knew her father loved his dog, Mary's heart wasn't really in it and she was distracted wondering why Matthew was at the house again and whether she could read anything into it. Instead of searching she mostly spent the hours the party were out looking over at Matthew who had taken charge and was directing the searchers.

When the light eventually began to fade and Isis had still not been found, Matthew finally called off the search and ordered everyone back to the house for refreshments. She hung back from the main party hoping the be able to speak with Matthew and felt a little thrill of anticipation as he fell into step next to her.

"Why were you up at the house this afternoon? Did Papa summon you again?"

It wasn't a very subtle way of beginning but she knew even a circuitous route back to the house gave them only limited time to speak privately.

"No actually I came to see you. I wanted to find out what you meant when you said that you had to marry Carlisle and that I'd despise you if I knew the reason?"

"Yes, you would" she replied simply, looking away from him and suddenly afraid again that he really would despise her, or at least not love her like he once had.

"Whatever it is" said Matthew, "it cannot be enough for you to marry him!"

Mary knew it was time. She knew she had to do what she'd not managed to all those years ago. She looked Matthew fully in the face, his eyes burning into her soul, and took a deep breath.

"I suppose you remember the visit of Mr Napier and his friend Mr Pamuk?" she began.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Matthew

Mary's confession hung in the air around him and Matthew knew that he needed to say something. He floundered as he tried to grasp hold of all the different thoughts that raced through his mind.

He was partly relieved having cycled through so many horrendous scenarios in the past twenty four hours, but he was also confused as to what Mary was confessing to. She seemed to suggest that she had desired his presence in her room, but surely he must've misunderstood? Was she saying she wanted it? Or that he forced himself on her? Because if he forced her then he swore to God that if he wasn't already dead he'd find that bastard and kill him with his bare hands...

Mary's voice broke through his confused thoughts, quiet and sad.

"Say something Matthew, even if it's only goodbye..."

Not goodbye. Never goodbye. But he did need to understand what she was saying.

"Did you love him? Because if it was love..."

"How could it have been love? I didn't know him!"

So she didn't want him there? His fists clenched subconsciously. He had promised he would fight for and he felt ready to swing for someone right now.

"Did he force you?"

Mary shook her head and looked down at the ground.

"I didn't invite him Matthew. When he asked me to come to my room I told him no, and when he arrived I asked him to leave. But I didn't stop him coming into my bed either... I was flattered by his attention, and I was young and stupid and I suppose it seemed exciting. And I did encourage him after all... Oh, what difference does it make now? I'm damaged goods, and I always will be!"

Her sadness tipped over into anger and frustration and Matthew fought to keep control of himself.

"It matters Mary. It matters a great deal. You said no and he came to your room anyway. You asked him to leave and he refused. Maybe he didn't force you physically but he still forced you."

"Maybe. But the fact remains that he was in my bed, and I am made different by it. I'm not sure that the gossip-mongers care whether I asked him to leave at first only that I eventually gave in. I can't deny that I let him into my bed and that is enough to put any other potential husband off and Richard will keep my secret if I marry him..."

"You must not marry him!"

Matthew's exclamation came out more emphatically than he was planning. He wasn't exactly sure how he felt about Mary having been in another man's bed but he did know that she should not marry Richard just to keep it hidden.

"So I must brave the storm?"

He looked at her bathed in the moonlight, cheeks tear stained and knew she would be able to. She was beautiful, that was undeniable, but she was also strong. Not fearless, but strong enough.

"You're strong Mary; a storm-braver if ever I saw one."

A half smile came to Mary's lips and she played with the tassel on her coat.

"I wonder. It's taken me seven years to tell you. That's not exactly strong of me."

Matthew's heart felt like it would explode as the pieces of the past began to, finally, fall into place. He suddenly saw the past, their past, from Mary's viewpoint. She'd hesitated in accepting him because she felt she should tell him what had happened to her but couldn't bring herself to. Not because she didn't love him, as he had naively assumed. He reached out to her and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

"I'm sorry" he said simply.

"You're sorry?" she said, incredulously.

"For not fighting for you seven years ago. For assuming the worst of you. For running away. For not being brave enough to stay and work things out..."

"Oh, Matthew!" she replied "I wanted to tell you. I tried, but the words wouldn't come and I was so sure you wouldn't have wanted me if you knew the truth and I couldn't bear that. But it didn't seem right for you to think I was someone that I wasn't either..."

"So it was never about the money?"

"No! I know what it looked like and God, with Granny and Aunt Rosamund's meddling I'm not surprised that's what you thought, but it was never about the money. Never. I wanted you regardless of your situation."

She reached out and put her hand on his chest and he felt like time had stopped.

"I wanted you to want me regardless too" she said, the imprint of her hand still on his heart.

* * *

Mary

Having bared their souls to each other, Mary and Matthew headed back towards the house knowing that they must, however reluctantly, go back to the real world. Mary wasn't sure exactly what would happen with her and Matthew, but at the moment that didn't matter. What she was sure of was that she didn't have to marry Richard and that her father and Matthew would stand by her whatever he tried to do to punish her. It gave her a lightness in her step that she felt like she hadn't had for years.

As the light had faded the temperature had dropped and Mary suddenly became aware of being cold and shivered, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth.

"When is Carlisle due back?" Matthew asked as they walked along the front of the house towards the main entrance.

"As things stand, in a week. He and Aunt Rosamund's beau are due back for the servants' ball. But I'll telephone in the morning and ask him to come up early, there's always the chance he'll arrive unexpectedly anyway"

"He has rather taken to doing that hasn't he?" Matthew replied with a smile.

"Yes he has. Since he heard that Lavinia had thrown you over I think he's thought you'd carry me away on a tidal wave of grief!"

Matthew laughed but didn't reply and Mary didn't pursue it. Now was not the time to dissect their relationship, or to ponder or plan for the future. Now it was enough to enjoy the fact that there was honesty between them for the first time since that fatal night with Pamuk. She shivered again at the thought of how different she'd been back then; how different they'd both been. So young, so black and white, so unaware of the mess they would create. She pushed the thought from her mind; they were here now and perhaps they might still manage to redeem things. Mary almost reached out for Matthew's hand, but stopped herself at the last minute. Not yet, she told herself. Not yet.

As they entered Downton, Matthew signalled for a footman to bring his hat and gloves and got himself ready for the walk back to Crawley House. Mary didn't want him to leave and considered asking him to stay and calling Carson to bring them something to drink, to toast her freedom perhaps, but again she refrained and said, simply, instead:

"Thank you Matthew. Thank you for everything; for sticking by me, for being my friend despite everything."

Matthew looked at her and, after looking around to check they weren't being overlooked, took both her hands.

"I could never despise you, Mary. Never."

They held hands for a minute or so in silence, savouring the moment, then Matthew tipped his hat and bade her goodnight. Mary watched him until he was out of sight feeling both elated and terrified at the same time.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16:

Matthew:

Matthew sat in the window of Crawley House watching the frost melting and sliding down the window panes making lacy patterns all over the window. At breakfast Mosley had passed him a letter which he re-read again now continuing to muse on its contents.

 _Dear Matthew,_

 _Thank you for your letter and my apologies for not writing by return but you have probably heard that my father died recently so I've been a bit preoccupied. It's been sad, but I was able to be with him at the end and I think he was happy that I was. I did pass on your regards which he appreciated. The funeral is next week and I would be happy for you to come, if you would like._

 _I'm grateful for your explanation of the situation with Mary, though obviously it was hard to read. As you say, if you had been able to be honest with me, and with Mary, then I suspect we would all have been a lot happier these years gone, but there's no point dwelling on the past which cannot be changed._

 _You know I've already forgiven you Matthew, and that I only want you to be happy so, whilst you most certainly do not need my permission to marry Mary, you have it if it would make you happy. I hope that you can persuade her to break with Carlisle; it's difficult not to assume that her delay in actually marrying him is because she doesn't really want to, but I've never really understood her like you have._

 _I also have some news that I wanted to share with you in the same spirit that you wrote to me. I have stepped out a number of times in the last few weeks with a Mr. Charles Willingham and, whilst there's no formal news to share, I am hopeful that I might soon be engaged again. He is a solicitor like you, though not in line to inherit an earldom so probably more suited to me than you were. I will write again if I have more news on that front._

 _I am glad that we can be friends Matthew, and I do so hope that you will be happy, whether with Mary or not._

 _All the best,_

 _Lavinia._

Matthew felt, not for the first time, a profound respect for his former fiancée. He'd always known that she was kind and loving but in the last few months he'd seen that she was also strong-willed, determined, even passionate. It was all in a quiet, understated way but she had demonstrated in word and action that she was no pushover, and that she wasn't afraid to take control of her own destiny.

Matthew had heard about Reggie Swire's passing before Lavinia's letter and felt for her. Reggie had been a good man and a good father, and it felt too soon for him to have gone. He had also heard that Reggie had left Lavinia, his only child, an enormous fortune, much more than anyone would've guessed. He smiled to himself at the thought that had they married he would've inherited enough money to buy another estate like Downton to add to the one he would, one day, inherit. He truly hoped that this Mr Willingham would make her happy and would be more worthy of her love and devotion than he had been. And that he wasn't a fortune hunter.

Matthew looked at his watch. He was due up at Downton in an hour. Mary had sent him a short note with one of the kitchen boys informing him that Richard was coming early for the servants' ball and she hoped he would come and welcome him. Matthew knew that Mary had invited him up in order to end their engagement and he wanted to be there in case she needed him. Robert had been unwell and bedridden since their conversation so he knew that any support would have to come from him.

With time still to kill he went back to studying the frost patterns and making a mental note to ask Molesley to arrange for him to attend Reggie Swire's funeral.

* * *

Mary

Mary stood anxiously outside the library door. Richard was inside waiting for her and she'd been pacing around outside summoning up the courage to enter and get it over with. Richard had arrived early, worst luck, and so Matthew was not yet here and her father was upstairs in bed. She knew it sounded feeble but she had so wanted them to be there with her, maybe not in the same room but there in the vicinity in any case.

As she readied herself to enter resigned to the fact she was on her own, Matthew came through the front door and she let out a sigh of relief. She went quietly over to him.

"Hello, Mary, are you alright?" he said as she pressed her finger to her lips.

"Richard was early!" she whispered by way of explanation. "Wish me luck!"

She spoke with more confidence than she felt and Matthew smiled back at her.

"I'll be right outside, waiting for you."

* * *

Mary

"My God, Mary. What more could I have done?"

Richard raised his voice for the first time and Mary felt a jolt of fear run through her. She always suspected that he wouldn't go quietly but had clung to the hope anyway. As she looked at him there was both anger and disappointment in Richard's face and the fear was joined by a jolt of guilt; however badly he had behaved, she also knew she had used him and strung him along. She dropped her eyes to the floor for a moment and then raised them again in defiance.

"Nothing. But you must see we're not well suited. We'd never be happy."

There was a moment of quiet. Mary held her breath, hoping again that perhaps Richard would just accept that things were over, that they could never be happy together. She saw in his eyes before he spoke that it was a vain hope, that he would take her down with him if he needed to.

"You won't be happy by the time I'm finished. I promise you that" he snarled at her.

"Richard, I am grateful..." she tried to placate him as she had grown used to throughout their relationship, but he cut her off raising his voice again.

"So you should be! I buy your filthy scandal! I keep it safe from prying eyes, with threats, bribes, calling in favours!"

"I am thankful, truly..."

He cut her off again, stepping menacingly towards her and sending more jolts of fear through her.

"You don't think it holds now, do you? You don't think I'll save you for one more day?"

Mary raised her hands, partly in self defence and partly in frustration that Richard would think this was the first foundation on which to base a successful marriage. When she spoke she matched her tone to his, stepping backwards away from him.

"And you wonder why we wouldn't make each other happy?!"

* * *

Matthew

Matthew had been waiting outside the library, trying not to look too much like he was eavesdropping but also wanting to protect Mary. He didn't think that Carlisle was the kind of man to deliberately use his fists on a woman, but he knew he would be more than angry with Mary and he had seen him be rough with her before with much less provocation.

The unmistakeable sound of Carlisle's raised voice had brought him closer to the door and when he heard Mary shouting back he decided they'd had enough time on their own and pushed the door open unannounced.

"Mary, are you quite alright?"

Mary was standing by the fireplace and smiled weakly at him. He was relieved that she seemed alright and turned to Carlisle as he spoke, his tone low and menacing.

"Oh, here he is, the man who can smile and smile and be a villain. Is she not to be trusted even to get rid of me without your help?"

Matthew didn't want to fight with Carlisle, but he did want to protect Mary from him so he turned back to Mary ignoring the insult.

"I heard shouting" he said to Mary by way of explanation and she again smiled wanly at him, one eye on Carlisle over his shoulder who looked like he was about to burst with rage.

"I hope you're happy with your slut!" he spat at Matthew.

"Don't you dare..." he spat back at Carlisle's sneering face.

"But you know it's true Matthew. You won't be the first man to have her, and you probably won't be the last. The Lady Mary Crawley, no better than she ought to be, a common whore!"

Rage coursed through Matthew and he balled his fists up to try and control himself. He heard Mary crying quietly behind him.

"Take that back" he said slowly and deliberately, advancing towards the other man.

"I will not. We both know what she did with that poor dead Turkish man. She's a slut whether you like it or not!"

Matthew gave into the rage, a red mist descending over him.

"You bastard!" he shouted as he hit Carlisle square in the jaw sending him reeling backwards.

Carlisle came for him, grabbing him by his jacket lapels and wrestling him to the floor. He was vaguely aware of a vase smashing around him as he tried to push Carlisle's flailing form off him and hit him again. He wanted to punch away every last insult that had been levelled at Mary, every last unkindness and sharp word. It felt, in the moment, like beating Carlisle to a pulp was the only thing that would make things better.

Suddenly a clear and unmistakeable voice rang out across the library which stopped both men in their tracks.

"Stop this at once!"

Matthew rolled away from Richard and got to his feet to apologise to the Dowager Countess who was brandishing her stick like a weapon at Carlisle whilst simultaneously seeking to comfort Mary who was still crying.

As ever Violet managed to command the room when she spoke.

"I presume you will be leaving after lunch Sir Richard. What time should I ask Carson to have the car ready?"

Carlisle smoothed his hair down and squared up to the older lady.

"How smooth you are. What a model of manners and elegance. I wonder if you'll be quite so serene when the papers are full of your eldest granddaughter's exploits?"

Matthew wondered for a moment whether he should intervene given that, in Robert's absence, he was de facto head of the family but he decided that Violet had things well under control, as she usually did. She looked at Carlisle like he was a small boy who she was humouring.

"I shall do my best," came the icy and eerily Mary-like response. Matthew bit down a smile, knowing that Mary was still upset.

Knowing he was beaten, Carlisle took one final sneering look at Mary and stalked out of the room.

"Sorry about the vase," Matthew said looking round at the shards littering the library rug.

Violet, still holding onto Mary in a proprietary manner, gave a nonchalant shrug.

"Oh don't be, don't be" she said. "It was a wedding present from a frightful aunt. I have hated it for half a century!"

Matthew smiled and looked over at Mary buttressed by her grandmother.

"Shall I ring for tea, and a brush?" he said and Mary smiled for the first time since he'd entered the room.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Mary

In the aftermath of the vase-smashing incident, Mary had lost Matthew who she presumed was ensuring that the servants cleared up the mess and got Richard's car ready. Deciding she wasn't likely to see him for some time and feeling the start of a headache she'd gone upstairs to rest and asking Anna to wake her when Sir Richard was actually leaving.

As she lay on her bed her mind replayed the scene in the library and Richard's words: slut, whore. They were words that she had feared Matthew would use of her all those years ago; they were words that, at her lowest moments, she'd used of herself. Matthew's defence of her had been gallant and her heart had leapt that he would protect her like that, but a little bit of her couldn't help but think that Matthew hadn't accepted what she'd done and what that made her. Richard hadn't been lying about what she'd done; he was many things but not a liar. His words were crude and harsh, but there was a degree to which they were true and surely Matthew needed to accept that and not pretend nothing had ever happened.

Her melancholia was interrupted by a quiet knock at the door. At Mary's invitation Anna opened the door and told her that Sir Richard was about to leave.

"They're bringing the car round now, Lady Mary, but I'm not sure there's any expectation that the family will be seeing him off..." she said diplomatically.

"I know, Anna, thank you. I need to say goodbye properly, for me. I need to know that the door is truly shut."

She headed downstairs to see Richard already in his hat and coat heading out of the door and called out to him.

"Wait!"

Richard turned to her and she was surprised at the softness in his expression; almost wistfulness.

"After the exhibition earlier I had rather hoped to escape unannounced" he said taking his hat off.

"I didn't want you to go without saying goodbye."

The ghost of a smile passed across Richard's face, all the fight and rage of earlier gone.

"Well then... goodbye!"

Mary wasn't sure whether he was mocking her or not but she appreciated the gesture and wanted to return it.

"I suppose you feel I've used you, and I'm sorry if I have. I'm sorry about Haxby, about all of it."

Richard eyed her skeptically. Clearly he didn't believe her sincerity either.

"I assume this is a plea to stay my hand from punishment." he said, "But I warn you, I'd feel no guilt in exposing you. My job is to sell newspapers."

"Papa has suggested I go to New York to wait it out. So, I'll be all right. I just didn't want our final words to be angry ones."

She hoped she could convince him of her sincerity. She wanted to be free of him, free to be happy again, free to dream. She knew he would publish, but she also knew that her family would stick by her. And so would Matthew, whether as her husband or simply her cousin she wasn't sure, but he wouldn't disown her. It was a better outcome that she could've dared to hope for and so she didn't want to fight with Richard over it if she didn't have to; she just wanted it to be over.

Richard continued to look at her almost quizzically, perhaps weighing the news that she might sojourn in New York whilst he broke her story.

"I loved you, you know," he said.

Mary was taken aback by his mention of love. He'd never once told her that he loved her, nor she him. Indeed he'd been explicit that their relationship wasn't about love, but about partnership and business. She'd come to him about Pamuk precisely because of the nature of their arrangement; precisely because she thought he wanted to marry her for what she could do for him rather than who she was. He'd called her cold and calculating and cold and calculating she had indeed been, but always on the understanding that it was mutual.

"You loved me?" she said raising one eyebrow at him.

"More than you knew, and much, much more than you loved me," he replied.

If it was a ploy to make her feel guilty then it worked, but deep down Mary knew it wasn't a ploy. Not now. He knew it was over. Perhaps Richard had been motivated by a twisted version of love; she could understand his jealousy at her open preference for Matthew if he fancied himself in love with her rather than just in an arrangement with her.

"Then I hope the next woman you love deserves you more than I did," she said, and she meant it.

Theirs had been an unwise and unworkable pairing from the start and whatever the rights and wrongs of their respective parts in that she hoped that he would be able to come out of it a better man than he had been whilst in it.

Richard put his hat back on, tipped it slightly at her, and made his way towards the door and the waiting car. As he reached the door he paused and turned back to her.

"And don't worry about Haxby. I'll set it at a profit. I usually do!"

She smiled as the familiar Richard resurfaced and he headed out into the snow which was just beginning to fall. She followed and watched as he took one final look up at Downton's impressive facade and then as the car took him away down the drive and out of her life.

* * *

Matthew

After he had ensured that the library was cleaned up and Richard's car ordered to take him away for good, Matthew had cast around for Mary but been told by Carson that she had taken to her room which a headache. He wasn't entirely surprised, but, whilst he was happy to admit that things had gotten somewhat out of hand with Carlisle, he didn't regret fighting for Mary; it was only what he'd promised Robert and what she deserved after all this time. Mary was not a whore; she'd been cruelly exploited by someone who knew that she was young and naive and Carlisle's behaviour towards her had only sought to re-emphasise that it was Mary's fault, that Mary's behaviour had been scandalous or immoral rather than that she'd been the victim of a predator. Mary had been wronged, both by Pamuk who'd effectively raped her and by Carlisle who'd used his behaviour to chain Mary to him. It was time that someone fought for her and Matthew was only sorry he hadn't done it earlier.

Deciding he was not likely to see Mary again unless he managed to secure a dinner invite he decided to see if Robert was well enough to be filled in on the morning's events.

When he entered Robert's bedroom he found him sitting up in bed drinking tea with Carson who had obviously beaten him to the task of relaying Mary's news. Carson obligingly stood up as he entered and excused himself leaving Matthew with a fresh cup of tea.

"I assume that Carson has brought you up to date as to the, um, situation with Sir Richard?" Matthew said, trying to be discreet.

"If you mean that Carson has, rather gleefully, informed me that Mary has broken with Carlisle and that you and he have wrestled like animals on the floor, then yes, I am up to date..." Robert answered with more than a twinkle in his eye.

Matthew wasn't sure how to respond and sipped his tea in order to give himself more time to prepare his response. Robert got in first, sensing perhaps, his nervousness.

"I am, of course, only disappointed that I wasn't able to be there to punch the bastard myself!"

Matthew laughed in relief that Robert wasn't upset at his lack of decorum.

"It did feel jolly good I have to say"

Robert chuckled and took a sip of his tea.

"And what now, my boy?" he said catching Matthew slightly off guard.

Matthew looked at Robert and felt a deep sense of love for the man who had taught him how to be a good Earl, to use his position for good and to serve his estate. A man who, like himself, knew the sting of failure and regret, but who was, nonetheless, a good man, a good father to his girls and the best man he could wish to be his future father-in-law.

"I want to marry her Robert," he said, confidently and proudly. "And I hope that you will give me your blessing to ask her if she'll be my wife."

Tears shone in Robert's eyes and Matthew felt them prick in his own. Robert stood out of bed and, still in his night shirt, pulled him into a hug clapping him on the back.

"You have more than my blessing Matthew. You have made this old man happy for the first time in a very long time."

As Robert eased himself back into bed, Matthew was surprised to see a depth of sadness in his eyes.

"Robert?" he said.

Robert shook his head.

"No, Matthew I am happy, I promise. But there is something that I need you to know. Now, more than ever I suppose."

A million thoughts raced through Matthew's head as Robert took his hand.

"I'm not a well man Matthew"

Matthew was confused.

"I know, Robert, but Dr. Sandford's treatment seems to have been very helpful has it not?"

"Yes, yes it has. But it's not just that. My heart is weak, apparently. Whether caused by the depression or just terrible coincidence the doctors don't seem to know, but they do seem sure that I might not be long for this world."

Matthew felt like his own heart had stopped. The euphoria of a moment ago seemed like a lifetime ago. It couldn't be true? It seemed too cruel; too unfair.

"This cannot be right. You must get another opinion. Dr. Clarkson might be wrong?"

Robert smiled at him and shook his head again.

"No, Matthew. I know it's true. I feel it. And I'm ready when it comes. Especially now, now that I know you and Mary will be able to look after the estate together, and to care for the others. Make sure Sybil marries that bloody chauffeur and that Edith doesn't marry Strallen just because she's worried they'll be no one else; there will be, I just know they will."

Matthew felt numb but nodded nonetheless.

"Does Mary know?"

"No, not yet. None of them do. I will tell them soon, but, for now let's celebrate that Carlisle is out of our lives and that you and Mary will soon be together again. You'll ask her soon I assume?"

Matthew's mind fought to keep up with Robert's change of tone. How could they be discussing his possible death in one breath and his and Mary's possible engagement in the other.

"I, um, well I want to do things properly this time. The whole bended knee and everything. I think she'd want that, I think she deserves that. But yes, it will be soon. Within the week if I can make the necessary arrangements."

Robert smiled at him and Matthew's heart broke.

"You're staying for dinner then?" Robert asked, ringing the bell for Carson.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Mary was sat in the drawing room pretending to read Vogue but really just waiting; waiting for the men, and Matthew specifically, to come through after dinner.

After Richard's dramatic exit, it'd been a frustratingly anti-climactic week for Mary. She wasn't exactly sure what she had been expecting to happen, but she did think that her and Matthew would talk. They had talked of course, they'd talked freely with each other for the first time in seven years, and they'd laughed and flirted, but they hadn't talked properly - not about the future. Matthew hadn't proposed, but neither had he said, or given her the impression, that he wasn't going to.

The first day or so after Richard had gone it'd been enough to be allowed to sit next to him at dinner, to look at him freely without interrogation. She had thought that he was waiting for the servants' ball which had been a good evening all things considered. Her Papa had been well enough to attend, though he had asked not to dance as it would remind him too much of her Mama. She and Matthew had, therefore, danced with Carson and Mrs. Hughes and then numerous times with each other. She had, of course, felt her mother's loss keenly, as they all had, but she had also felt a sense of rightness as she and Matthew had stepped into the role of Earl and Countess in waiting. As the family's role in proceedings had drawn to a close she and Matthew had stood together on the front steps watching the snow fall gently in the night sky. She'd been almost certain he would propose then, but, instead, he'd seemed almost distracted and distant and she'd felt frustration and a sense of fear as she watched him walk down the drive and into the night. She had begun to worry that Richard's accusations had done their work, that Matthew didn't want a wife who was a whore.

The next day one of Mrs. Bird's kitchen boys had delivered a postcard for her to Carson and she had read it with trepidation. It was maddeningly short:

 _My dear Mary,_

 _I'm sorry for not being at my best last night._

 _With my love,_

 _Matthew_

Underneath his name he had scrawled some words of the poet John Donne which they had been talking about at the ball:

 _"No man is an island_

 _Entire of itself_

 _Each is a piece of the continent_

 _A part of the main_

 _Each man's death diminishes me_

 _For I am involved in mankind_

 _Therefore send not to know_

 _For whom the bell tolls_

 _It tolls for thee."_

She'd been partly reassured by the card, primarily because she assumed that, in Matthew's own particular way, that was his intent. But also confused by his reference to Donne and to death. They'd talked of Donne's words in the context of her Mama's passing and the difference that a year can make; that with life always comes death; and that life is fragile. Like her father and her sisters, she had found the ball a stark reminder that her mother was gone; she'd been the one who insisted they continued the tradition holding a ball for the servants, and had three-line whipped the family into attendance at least for the first two hours after which they tended to allow the staff to get on with it themselves. This year it had mostly been organised by Edith, who had, yet again, taken Mary by surprise with her ability to get things done well, and it had been Edith's suggestion that Matthew take Papa's place and she take Mama's.

Mary shook her tangled thoughts out of her head as Matthew and her father entered the room smiling and bringing with them the familiar, evocative, smell of cigar smoke and brandy. Matthew's hair, slicked back in place during dinner, had done its usual after-dinner trick of falling into his eyes and his cheeks had the hue of an evening's leisurely drinking. He caught her eye as he came into the room and smiled ever so slightly before greeting her Granny first, as protocol dictated, and then taking a seat next to her on the Ottoman. She felt the familiar pulse of electricity between them as he sat down and leaned in to whisper to her:

"I hope you got my card? I am truly sorry that I was so distracted at the ball."

"Is everything alright, Matthew? The Donne quotation was... confusing."

He looked at her and smiled, pushing back the unruly hair from his eyes once more.

"Life is beautiful and tragic all at the same time Mary. And we're meant to live it together."

* * *

Matthew

Matthew had opted to walk back to Crawley House rather than call the car back. His mother had left long before him and it still felt rather cheeky to be driven such a short distance when it wasn't raining. It was a crisp winter's night, the remnants of the snow earlier in the week still on the ground, but he was warm from the wine and brandy which buzzed through his veins, and the glow that he always felt after an evening with Mary.

It had been a strange week. He'd spent a good part of it planning with Carson and Mrs Hughes how he was going to propose to Mary and making sure everything was just as he wanted, but he'd also spent a good part of it with Robert and Murray trying to get Robert's affairs in order in case the worst should happen sooner rather than later. Dr. Clarkson had been typically vague as to the prognosis as had Dr. Sandford and the specialist that Matthew had insisted visit Robert immediately. The consensus was as Robert had told him; his heart was weak and failing. He might have a few months or a few years.

The day of the Servants' Ball had been particularly hard. He'd spent most of the day closeted away with Robert and Murray and they'd argued about Branson. Robert, whilst having accepted he and Sybil were going to marry, was keen to tie up money for Sybil in some complicated trust arrangement so that, should Branson leave her or die, the money would remain Sybil's with no questions asked. Matthew, whilst understanding Robert's desire to protect Sybil, had wanted Robert to be a even handed with all three daughters and not single Branson out as especially untrustworthy. They had gone round in circles and it had all gotten too much for Matthew. He felt guilty for planning for Robert's demise behind the girls' back, especially behind Mary's back, and he felt uneasy about planning both his proposal and Robert's funeral at the same time. Robert remained insistent that he wanted to wait until after their engagement to tell the girls, so that they could have a proper celebration, but it felt almost deceptive to be carrying on regardless.

The ball had been beautiful nonetheless. Edith had excelled herself with the decoration and music and opening the dancing with Mrs Hughes had been an honour and a privilege. He'd smiled to himself at how far he'd come since his introduction to Downton, and Mary, all those years ago. He'd thought himself so progressive, so much better than his aristocratic relatives, but he was wrong, pompous and naive. Watching the servants let their hair down at the family's invitation and expense, watching the genuine friendship between family and staff filled his heart with inexpressible joy. And then there was Mary.

Mary was always beautiful, but she was something out of a fairy tale that night. Her skin alabaster against her red-wine coloured dress, her dark hair swept up elegantly and effortlessly. When she first came downstairs he'd been reminded of the first time he'd seen her all those years ago. Then, as now, she had literally taken his breath away. Even now he smiled to himself as he remembered how his heart skipped its familiar beat as he'd taken her arm to lead her, and the rest of the family, into the ballroom.

As they'd stood together later in the evening watching the snow fall, Matthew had known that Mary would be expecting him to propose. It had been pretty as a picture but he had wanted to surprise her with something more, something special. He knew that she would never want him, or them, to be predictable, but as they'd stood together in the night air, Cora's engagement ring had felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket. He'd taken to carrying it around with him; partly for security, but also because he half expected himself to abandon his carefully laid plans and propose on the spur of the moment especially as he was increasingly aware of Mary's impatience. Even so, as they'd stood together that evening his head couldn't get into the right place. The discussions over Robert's will were fresh in his mind and everything seemed tainted, including himself. He'd been reminded of and even quoted to Mary, John Donne's meditations about death being ever present in life, and even with Mary's obvious frustration he decided it would be better to wait and do it as he'd planned. This was to be his third, and hopefully last, marriage proposal and he wanted to do it properly.

As Crawley House came into view he began to feel the chill of the evening and wrapped his coat more tightly around him. In contrast to the previous night at the ball, tonight had been much easier. Perhaps because he hadn't seen or talked to Robert until dinner or perhaps because he knew that tomorrow was the day. In knowledge of his plans, the rest of the family had been content to leave them alone locked together in the corner of the room and he'd even dared to kiss her goodnight before sneaking down to confirm with Carson and Mrs Hughes that everything was, indeed, set for tomorrow.

As he reached the gates of his home he paused and drew a deep breath of winter's air. Tomorrow would be a big day, hopefully a happy day. Even in times of tragedy there could be beauty and tomorrow would be one of them.


	19. Chapter 19

_Author's note: my sincere apologies for the delay in posting this the final chapter of this story. I work in politics in the UK so it's been a busy time! This story is now complete but look out for the sequal, No Man is an Island, soon - exploring Robert's illness and Matthew & Mary's new life together._

Chapter 19

Matthew

Matthew thought that sometimes winter days were the most beautiful of all and, as he made a final check on everything, today was one of those days. The sunlight was low and yellow, but still bouncing off the frosty ground and reflecting all around the folly. It was cold, yes, but not in a dank and gloomy way instead in an invigorating and fresh way. Matthew knew he'd been lucky with the weather, it had been Carson's biggest fear, but he also knew that even if it'd been grey and drizzly that it would've been beautiful.

Matthew had chosen the folly to the east of the house, known as Jackdaw's Castle by the family, for number of reasons. Partly practical in that it was close enough to the house to allow Carson to get the decorations and food there easily; partly aesthetic in that it was the most lovely of the follies, in Matthew's opinion, and had a beautiful view back towards the big house, especially at dusk; but also, most importantly, because he knew Mary loved it and had told him story after story of playing amongst the columns as a girl; she'd pushed him up to it a number of times when he'd been in his wheelchair and they'd sat, usually in contended silence, watching the sunset over the house.

He took a final look at his preparations and, on impulse, took the ring out of his pocket to look at again. As you would expect from something owned by the late Countess of Grantham it was a stunning price; one large sapphire set in the middle of a sea of smaller diamonds glinting in the late afternoon sun. He knew Mary would love it, and he couldn't wait to see it on her finger.

Carson came surreptitiously up to him. It was time. Time to light the candles and time to hope his plan to get Mary out of the house unawares worked. They'd had a job keeping her out of the way but Sybil had managed to convince her to go dress shopping in Ripon for most of the morning and, since they returned, had kept her closeted away on the pretext of needing sisterly counsel about Branson and his Irish relatives. Carson was sure that Mary knew nothing about the activity at the folly and Matthew could tell he was gagging to get started.

"I think it's time Carson"

* * *

Mary

Mary didn't often get frustrated with her youngest sister, usually it was Edith who pushed all her buttons, but this as the afternoon wore on and the shadows grew ever longer, she began to tire of Sybil's incessant worrying about how to introduce Branson's relatives to their father. At first it had been fun to dissect all the various ways in which the two parties would wilfully misunderstand each other, she'd grown increasingly tired of Sybil's whining which seemed out of character. Mary wanted to support her sister but she also hadn't seen Matthew all day and Carson had seemed vague as to whether he was coming up for dinner or not and so she had thought to walk down to the village on the pretext of posting a letter and hope to bump into him. She'd tried to escape twice and been prevented both times by Sybil and she as beginning to feel more than a little cross with her.

As Mary began contemplating a third exit attempt there was a knock at the door and Carson came into the room looking flustered and uneasy.

"What's the matter Carson?" she said rising from her seat.

"I'm ever so sorry to interrupt Lady Mary, Lady Sybil, but Lady Edith has fallen at Jackdaw's Castle and hurt her ankle and is quite distressed. I don't want to wake Lord Grantham and I can't find Mr. Crawley so I was hoping you might be able to come up and help to calm her down so we can bring her back to the house?"

Mary felt her frustration rise within her. What on earth was Edith doing up at Jackdaw's Castle? She'd never get to see Matthew if she had to go and play nursemaid to Edith who was clearly just being melodramatic.

"Can't you get some of the men to carry her back and call Dr. Clarkson? I'm sure she'll be fine by now..."

"Mary! Don't be so unfeeling to poor Edith! Carson, of course we'll come and help, won't we Mary?"

Mary rolled her eyes at Sybil, ever the good kind sister to her wicked witch. Her hope of seeing Matthew before dinner slipped away but she knew she was cornered.

"For goodness sake, Sybil, she's only fallen over! But yes, fine, of course we'll come."

* * *

There was a chill in the air as Mary, Sybil and Carson stepped outside, the two girls wrapped in their winter coats. As they'd reached the edge of the house Sybil exclaimed that she had a stone in her shoe and asked Carson to help her to remedy the problem.

"Go ahead Mary, poor Edith is waiting."

Mary nodded in agreement and rounded the end of the house. As she looked up at the path up to the folly, her jaw dropped and she stopped where she was.

The path leading up to the folly was lined with candles flickering in the fading afternoon sunshine. She could see Matthew standing silhouetted against the columns of the folly, dressed in his full formal evening wear despite it not even being 5 o'clock yet. A million thoughts ran through her mind and crystallised into one: this is it, he's going to propose.

Mary turned back towards the house briefly. Carson and Sybil were standing together smiling at her. Sybil waved her back towards Matthew, eagerly impatient and the two of them melted back round the corner to give them some privacy. She turned back to Matthew. Nothing else mattered now and started to walk slowly up the path, her eyes never leaving Matthew's.

As she reached Matthew he smiled at her and held out his hand which she took without thinking.

"I hope you're not disappointed that I'm not an injured Edith?!" he said with more than a twinkle in his eye.

Mary laughed out loud at how frustrated she'd been with her two sisters just moments ago.

"You took a risk assuming that I'd come to Edith's aid!"

Matthew smiled and pushed a stray hair back behind her ear, his touch sending pulses of anticipations down her spine.

"I don't care why you came; I only care that you're here now. You've lived your life and I've lived mine and it's time that we lived them together."

Mary closed her eyes for a moment, wanting to savour every moment. Trying to burn onto her memory how she felt, how Matthew looked, how everything was perfect. Out of nowhere she suddenly heard Richard's voice in her mind, calling her a slut, and she shivered trying to push it out. Matthew looked at her quizzically.

"And what about the late Mr. Pamuk? Won't he resurrect himself every time we had an argument?"

"No! Mary, how many times do I need to tell you that you have nothing to be ashamed of, or guilty of."

"You don't think I'm a slut?"

She needed to hear him say it. She knew it would be the only way to banish Richard's voice from her head forever.

Matthew looked at her tenderly, and her heart melted inside her.

"No. Never. We're neither of us perfect, but you're not ever to allow Carlisle or anyone else to define you using that word!"

"So you've forgiven me?"

"I don't believe you need my forgiveness. The past is the past; what matters the future. Our future here."

He waved his hand towards Downton which looked luminous in the late sun and Mary smiled, she couldn't help but smile. She felt it play around her mouth, enjoying being happy, truly happy for the first time in such a very long time. Matthew smiled too and she watched almost in slow motion as he put his hand into his trouser pocket and then knelt down, the shingle underfoot crunching as he dropped to one knee and took her hands again.

She knew what he was about to say. She knew before he'd said anything what she was going to say in response; what she'd wished for seven long years she'd had the guts to say the last time. But despite knowing what was coming it was still blissful to hear him speak, when he finally did.

"Lady Mary Crawley, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

This time it was simple and Mary answered with no hesitation.

"Yes!"

Matthew beamed, and then slid the ring onto her finger. The sapphire glinted in the sun and Mary gasped as she realised it was her mother's ring.

"Is that Mama's?" she said as she flexed her fingers amazed at how it fitted perfectly, as if it had always been there.

Matthew nodded, still smiling and looking at her. He stood up, pulled her towards him and kissed her. As their lips met it felt like coming home, it was a sense of relief more than anything. Relief and joy that he was finally hers and she was finally his.

As he pulled away he laughed, and so did she, and he pulled her to him again picking her up and spinning her around on the spot. It felt, in that moment, like they were invincible. All the grief of the past year, all the heartache of the years before that, all the misunderstandings and guilt, all melted away. Nothing else mattered except being together, her mother's ring signalling the promise of a lifetime together to come.

THE END

 _(Sequel in the making - look out for No Man is an Island, coming soon!)_


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